Jesus and David: A Tale of Two Tombs

For David says concerning Him:

‘I foresaw the Lord always before my face,
For He is at my right hand, that I may not be shaken.

Therefore my heart rejoiced, and my tongue was glad;
Moreover my flesh also will rest in hope.

For You will not leave my soul in Hades,
Nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.

You have made known to me the ways of life;
You will make me full of joy in Your presence.’

“Men and brethren, let me speak freely to you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Therefore, being a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him that of the fruit of his body, according to the flesh, He would raise up the Christ to sit on his throne, he, foreseeing this, spoke concerning the resurrection of the Christ, that His soul was not left in Hades, nor did His flesh see corruption. This Jesus God has raised up, of which we are all witnesses. (Acts 2:25-32)

In his message to the people on the day of Pentecost, Peter quotes from Psalm 16. He then uses these words to do a little teaching. In Peter's statement, we learn that, in some of David's psalms, the poet wasn't always speaking of himself, but was in fact prophesying. Such is the case here, in which David declares, "You will not leave my soul in Hades, nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption." As Peter points out, David is dead, and his body long since rotted away. 

God liked David a whole lot, even calling him a man after his own heart. Yet even David was not above corruption and sin. Even David was subject to sickness and, ultimately, death. 

But Jesus is the Lord over life and death. His resurrection is the sign of that Lordship. Unlike us, who are beholden to death, our Messiah is death's master. It answers to Him. And because our Savior is Lord over even death, He is able to free us from its bonds as well. 

This, indeed, is our hope: that in Christ, we are not subject to death forever, but can be given new life. Our hope is for nothing so paltry as life in this temporary world, but an Eternity in the sight of a loving, living God.

Jesus Christ: The Word

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made. (John 1:1-3)

As we head into Advent season, it is good to understand exactly who it is we are celebrating when we celebrate the man Jesus. John's gospel opens at the very beginning. Indeed, it gives us a glimpse before time. Before Man, before Earth, before the Universe, there was God. Outside of what we know as time itself, there He is, the Creator of All Things and Giver of All Life. 

We like to talk about Jesus as Son of God -- and He is. But He is so much more! 

This Man -- this man who was born the lowly, poor son of a carpenter; whose parents were so poor He had to be born in a stable; whose parents fled to Egypt just to save His life; who walked among us, healing and showing us what it means to love; who had no place to call home here on earth; who was mocked and beaten and brutally murdered -- this Man was, and is, God Himself. 

John tells us He was present for the creation of the Universe. That it was by Him that all things were created. He built this world. He created us. And then, by His great love for us, He lowered Himself to our level. 

Words are insufficient to capture the awe of this moment we celebrate once a year. The moment when the very Person of the Creator was pushed into the world of men through the womb of a young virgin girl, screaming and gasping for His first breath of oxygen, and then laid into a straw-filled trough. 

This birth wasn't His beginning. The Word, the Son of God, present and instrumental in the creation of all things has no beginning and no end. But what this birth shows us is that as eternal as He is, so is His love for us.

Thy Deep and Dreamless Sleep

My children and I have started reading the Bible together before they go to bed. Because of the season, we decided to start in the book of Matthew. Yesterday was the first part of Matthew 2. I was struck, as we read, by how much the Chief Priests and Teachers of the Law really knew about their coming Messiah. After the wise men from the East visited Herod, the king called all these teachers together and asked from where this Messiah was to come.

⁵ “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written: ⁶ “‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
    who will shepherd my people Israel.’

Given the wholeheartedness with which these same priests and teachers later rejected that same Messiah, I often forget they, too, had read the prophecies. In fact, these men were extremely well-versed. They knew the prophecies of the Messiah backwards and forwards. They knew them so well that, when Herod asked a specific question about them, these men were prepared with a specific answer. 

And yet, in spite of this -- in spite of the man Jesus humbly meeting every requirement set forth in these prophecies -- these great teachers of the Law didn't recognize Him. You see, there was prophecy, and then there was expectation. The nation of Israel expected -- and indeed still expects -- an earthly King, to pull them away from their troubles, to make them great among all nations.

And He will. But first, He came to bridge the gap between man and God. He came, as Isaiah said, to bear our iniquity, and be wounded and killed as a sacrifice. He will come as a King, but came first as a man of sorrow. 

It seems to me these teachers and priests were perfectly willing to allow their Messiah to be that man of sorrow, so long as he wore the Crown of Israel. But what God says He will do, He will do, our own preferences aside.

The Messiah did indeed come to Bethlehem, a ruler and Shepherd, not only for Israel, but for, as Paul reminds us in Romans 3, "all who believe." 

The promised Messiah came out of that little town of Bethlehem, in the land of Judah. The question is, will you recognize Him?

Peace on Earth, Good-will To Men

If we ever needed a reminder that we are a world in need of a Savior, Friday was it. I read the news with growing shock and sadness. Multiple deaths, several children, at the whim of one man. And worst of all, the knowledge that this is just the most recent (and among the most horrific) of a growing trend.

Blame whatever you want for it: guns, or video games, or movies, or the Media. Blame us. Blame a fallen World, growing in her depravity as her population collectively struggles against its own yoke of sin, while steadfastly refusing the Hand of the One who can remove it.

I had a hard time, Friday, as we talked about the horror of another school shooting; of the parents who have just suffered through what no parent should ever have to experience. The father of four small children myself, I could barely contain my own sorrow and anger on behalf of all the fathers and mothers in that small Connecticut town. "I'm praying for them," I told my coworkers. "I'm glad the shooter is dead, because I can't bring myself to pray for him."

And in that gentle way of Brothers in Christ, I was reminded by one of those coworkers that it's not about me. "You know," he said, "Jesus came for him, too."

This is neither the last nor the greatest of the horrifying acts man is capable of visiting on his fellow man. A world struggling to deny its Creator can only sink itself into the mire of sin and despair. And that's exactly why Jesus came.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had just lost his wife, and was watching His nation embroiled in Civil War. His son had been severely wounded in battle and the news of gunfire and death surrounded him. Surely it must have seemed that everything he had ever known or had faith in was crumbling around him. It was in the midst of this chaos that Longfellow wrote the words, "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day."

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Coffee

I don't start my day without a cup of coffee. Preferably good coffee, but when I'm desperate, bad will do just as well. My blood is actually more caffeine than water: I generally drink strong, black coffee throughout most of the day, and I almost never go to bed before one more cup.

It is the fuel that wakes me up, keeps me going, allows me to focus, and finally calms my nerves.

The question I'm asking myself lately is simply this: what if I needed time with my Savior as much as I need a good dark roast?

I do, and more. I need Him to start my day. I need Him to keep me going, and to focus my eyes on what matters. I need Him to calm my soul at the end of the day. I need Him with a desperation I can barely fathom.

The difference is, every morning, I make time for coffee. And, I confess, sometimes I take my Lord for granted. That's the curse of always being there. I know that, when I turn to Him, there He'll be, because He is faithful. More faithful, thank God, than I can be.

My prayer today -- and every day -- is for God to remind me He's there, and that I need to seek His face, at the start of my morning, throughout the day, and before I go to sleep. And that I remember to thank Him for always being there -- even when I can't find a cup of coffee.

Kind of like the National Debt

Did you know the NIV version of the Bible uses the word, "Inheritance" 220 times? The land, as an inheritance for Israel. A father's passing down to his sons. The inheritance, down generations, of God's promises.

I was reading a column yesterday, in which the author discussed her children's genetic inheritance from her and her husband. Her eyes. His math skills. Her tendency to faint upon even reading about blood.

It made me think about what my wife and I have passed to our children. My son has my eyes and dimples; his Mom's hair. In fact, all my kids got their mother's hair, except the unruliness of my daughter's, which comes from my side of the family. My daughters also got my wife's creativity and compassion; my son wound up with my analytical and sarcastic streaks. And, there are less pleasant aspects of our own personalities -- aspects trained away by maturity and prayer, and some with which we are still dealing, even now -- which are also cropping up in our kids. A sense of humor that can, occasionally, not know when enough is enough. A sudden flare of temper.

Scripture reminds us that sin is also in our DNA. An inheritance from the beginning of Man's journey on Earth.

To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come. (Romans 5:13-14)

As children of the World, Death is our inheritance. However, as adopted Children of God, we have a new inheritance to which we can look forward. The promises of God, passed down from generations, are now ours as His Children.

In fact, in Romans 5, Paul continues his discussion of our original inheritance of sin and death, when he says that the sacrifice of Christ covers over that original condition:

... just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous. (vs 18-19)

Death is in our blood. Passed from father to son like eye color. But the inheritance of Life is found in His blood, for those who will accept it.

American Idol

Some time ago, I came face to face with my own idolatry, and was completely shocked. I've always known idols weren't necessarily made of gold. Sometimes, I knew, it could be a car, or a job, or even another person.

In fact, an idol is anything you put before God. For me, that idol was politics. I was what you might call a political junky. I blogged politics. I went to rallies and became an activist. And, if I may say so, I was pretty doggone good at it, too. And on its face, there wasn't anything wrong with that. It wasn't that I worshiped at the Altar of Washington DC. Nothing nearly so obvious. It was far more insidious. I realized I was putting politics ahead of people. I got to a point where I cared more about whether somebody was Liberal or a Conservative than I cared about whether they knew Jesus Christ.

And just like that,  my idol of politics had taken place in my heart where my grace, mercy, and love should have been.

I read a book yesterday which asked a particularly tough question: to take a look at the God I am serving, and to ask myself: am I following the God of the Bible, or have I crafted a god in my own image?

Like politics, or cars, or jobs, or any number of idols, we can create a false image of Christ, and worship that instead of the true Jesus of the Bible. Take a look at who Jesus is, in the words of those who walked with him on Earth. Read through the Gospels, and ask God to reveal His son to you... and then ask: is that the Jesus I am worshiping now?

This post is an extrapolation and oversimplification of a theme developed in Matt Mikalatos's My Imaginary Jesus. I cannot recommend this book enough. The above post is, like most of the posts here, stripped into bite-sized chunks for radio consumption.

Frustrated?

Being a kid can be frustrating. No longer being seven, I sometimes forget that Second-graders have real problems, too. I was reminded of this yesterday when, in the course of correcting my son's behavior, I asked him if anything had been going on at school.

My son is a passionate boy. He's quick to love, but can also be quick to anger. So as he was telling me about some playground issues, my heart hurt, but I was also worried that he might let those passions get the better of him. Now that he's old enough to understand these things, I've been working on remembering my role as Dad is as much teacher as it is administrator. More so! So instead of admonishing him to watch his step, I asked him to pray when he was frustrated.

Remember, I told him, Jesus had -- and has -- more reason to be angry with us than we've ever had to be mad at somebody else. He was beaten up, and mocked, and finally killed. And He is God. He could have freed himself of those chains. He could have asked all the angels in Heaven to teach his antagonists a lesson. But He didn't. In fact, even as He hung on that cross and watched as soldiers divided His clothes among themselves, he lifted His eyes to God and said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

God knows we can get angry and frustrated. He understands. So who better to ask for help, when it all becomes too much to try and control our anger?

So, I told my son, pray. God gets it. He can help you. Just ask. "Oh," said my son, and almost moved me to tears. "I sort of do that sometimes now."

I am grateful he knows that God is there, and listening. And I pray he remembers as he goes through life that God understands his anger. And I pray that, as often as I need it, I remember, too.