Sometimes it hurts; healing usually does

 

My legs were asleep.

A common enough occurrence. Sometimes when I’m sitting, I lean forward and put my elbows on my thighs, to read or watch something. I don’t have to stay in that position for long, and when I straighten back up, I can tell my legs are numb.

Then when I try to stand up, it almost feels as if I can’t. It feels week. It aches. It takes a minute to get the feeling back in my leg. It hurts.

I used to think this was from cutting off circulation to my leg. But since I have access to a world of information on my phone, I looked it up. Turns out, it’s something called “positional paresthesia.” According to the first article I found (I didn’t think it was worth in-depth research), “Leg sleep,” the common term for positional paresthesia, happens when there is sustained pressure on a nerve that disrupts it’s “feeling,’’ or signaling.

What’s really creepy – and maybe this has happened to you (please tell me it has, and that it’s not just me!) – is waking up in the middle of the night and feeling this thing under my pillow that feels like a rubber hand, only to realize it’s mine, and it’s so “asleep” that I have no feeling in it, and when I touch it it’s like finding a fake hand made out of rubber under my pillow.

The feeling doesn’t last long. As soon as the pressure is released, the nerves start tingling and burning as they come back to life. In the case of a hand, I shake it and shake it to get past this “awakening” until it finally feels like my hand again. But it’s a weird feeling, as I said; it’s uncomfortable. It can actually be painful as the nerves come back to life.

Really, all that’s happening is my body is healing itself. When you think about it, any kind of healing usually hurts. There is a reason the doctors give you pain medicine after surgery. Those morphine pumps after major surgery are sometimes the only relief you get in the immediate after-effect of some operation that puts your body in a position to heal. Because healing hurts.

The Gospel of Jesus can be like that. It should change your life, and change is rarely easy. Learning to live the way Jesus wants us to, the way the Bible says to live, the way we were created to live, is very often against how we want to live, how we’ve lived most of our life, sometimes even how we like to live.

And why shouldn’t it be uncomfortable? We’ve tried to live without God for so long that when we finally decide to follow Jesus and His teaching, it is an adjustment. You may find that things you used to do without thinking, suddenly you find yourself thinking about before you either do them again or decide not to do them. Your friends may wonder why suddenly you’re not joining in with them in things you’ve always done, and when you explain why you would rather not do it they make fun of you, or at least wonder how long this ‘fad’ will last.

Just like the nerves coming back to life in my leg, when I realize I need to live the way the Bible says I was created to live, it can feel awkward. It’s sometimes hard to make a stand, to take the first few steps.

In the Christian faith, we call conversion being “saved.” We’ll even ask the question, “have you been saved?” “Tell me about when you were saved.”

I am told the name “Jesus” means “God saves.” In the birth story of Jesus, in both Matthew and Luke, it says “You shall call his name ‘Jesus,’ for he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21).

Sometimes I think I use this word “saved,” particularly in a church context, way too casually. The word ‘salvation’ – another of those religious terms we throw around – means “preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss.” It’s the word the Jewish historian Josephus used to refer to the deliverance of the Israelites from their slavery in Egypt.

In my faith, ‘salvation’ or being saved means I believe I have been delivered from the fear of death and the penalty for my wrong-doing (sin).

That’s really amazing. We’re literally being brought from death to life. In fact, we no longer have to fear death, because – as the old spiritual says – “ain’t no grave gonna keep my body down.”

I don’t fully understand all the intricacies of how it works. But I believe in it. I can look at my life and see how it has changed me, from the way I once was to the way I am. Not that I have achieved perfection. The Apostle Paul says in Philippians 3, “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” If Paul, late in his life, says he’s not obtained perfection, then I know I’m certainly not there.

There is a great example of this change in the New Testament.

In the list of the men Jesus called to be his 12 disciples, (Mark 3) included in the 12 were “James son of Zebedee and his brother John (to them he gave the name Boanerges, which means “sons of thunder”).” That could possibly mean that Zebedee was a man of temper, but I think it more probably means that James and John were hot-headed, easily provoked.

The best example may be in Luke 9, where it says Jesus “sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?”

That sounds like “sons of thunder” to me. “They don’t accept us? Let us call down fire and show these people a thing or two about who they’re dealing with here!” A very human reaction.

The passage goes on to say “But Jesus turned and rebuked them.”

Jesus rebuked them. That had to hurt. It wasn’t the first time Jesus had to call them out. It seems they were a bit slow to learn, and the learning was sometimes painful.

But Jesus didn’t used their mistakes to exclude them from discipleship. Today we might have shunned them. “Hey, watch out for James and John. They may go off on somebody at a moment’s notice. We better keep them away from the crowds.”

Jesus simply understood James and John needed more training. And their transformation was evident.

James became the first of the 12 disciples to be martyred (Acts 12:2). But his brother, John - by the end of his life John was known not as “Son of Thunder” but “the apostle of love,’’ referencing love in his Gospel and first letter more than any other New Testament writer. That’s a far cry from wanting to call down fire from heaven to destroy an entire village.

Our world says “People don’t change.”

But when people follow Jesus, Jesus changes them.

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it feels like we’re going against our very nature (which we are). Sometimes people refuse to believe it’s real. Sometimes it doesn’t seem “fair,’’ and we make excuses for the way we behave saying, “That’s just how God made me.”

But no, God made you and me to be perfect. He loved us enough to let us make our own choices, knowing full well those choices could lead to all kinds of pain and suffering, but also knowing – I believe, and I could be wrong – that for love to be real, it can’t be coerced.

If we did not have the ability to reject God, then neither would we have the ability to truly love Him. Some theologians go so far as to say that human freedom is the highest good and that even God will not violate it. Genuine love and genuine good can only exist in a world where there is an opportunity for genuine rejection and genuine evil.

That’s a discussion for another day, for people far smarter than I.

All I know is, when people follow Jesus, Jesus changes them.

Even if it hurts.

Ancient wisdom

 

Take time to read ancient thinkers; they don't want you to repeat their mistakes

Ancient wisdom.

It’s everywhere. It’s not just the Bible, but in our study of history, of writers and philosophers and what might be called “movers and shakers” from the past.

But it’s also in your family. Even if you have what you consider to be a terrible family background, there are stories worth knowing, if for no other reason than to know how you’d like to see your own family story improved.

I read a story about a man who never really knew his father, because his father was in prison for murder. He was raised by his mother and a step-father. But later, as an adult, when his natural father died in prison, he was the point of contact and told to come pick up his father’s belongings, meager though they were.

Reluctantly he went. But while there, the prison guard who gave him what was left of his father’s belongings told him stories about his father. Apparently, in prison, this man’s father became a mentor to younger, new prisoners. He was a guy who was always there to listen to someone in trouble, or who was having to deal with family issues while incarcerated. He was a man who apparently taught himself while in prison and read a great deal. He was liked, and would apparently be missed.

The man was stunned. He had no idea of what his father was like, only that he was in prison for murder and that his mother never talked about him. Yet in hearing stories about his father, he could see there was some good, and discovered traits about himself – the son turned out to be an author, a pastor, a public speaker – that he could see where parts of his personality may have come from.

Even if your story is not that dramatic, there is value in knowing your family history; the struggles your parents and grandparents had, the lessons they learned over the years, stories about the people they knew. There are very often patterns in family history that you see repeated, even unknowingly and unintentionally.

According to a recent study in the American Academy of Arts and Science, 84 percent of American adults read for five minutes or less per day. As someone who has written books for other people, and tried to help get them published, I know it is easier than ever to get a book published because there are multiple self-publishing options; but I also know how difficult it is to get a traditional publishing deal, where the publisher pays for everything in the belief that the book will sell enough for the publisher to make a profit. With so few Americans apparently reading any more, I understand the difficulty.

I admit to being something of a Luddite, uncomfortable with modern technology. Luddites were members of a 19th-century movement of English textile workers who protested the industrialization of their industry out of fear of losing their jobs. (They are called “Luddites” after a legendary weaver named “Ned Ludd”, who may or may not have actually existed but over whose name threats were sent to factory owners and government officials).

While I’m not truly a Luddite in the sense that I am not opposed to new technology, I am slow to learn it and more comfortable – particularly in my old age – with the old ways of doing things.

And some lessons, particularly about human nature, should be remembered to avoid having to be constantly relearned.

I thought about this in coming across a writing by Ralph Waldo Emerson, a 19^th Century writer/philosopher who believed people should be self-reliant and individualists and was a critic of countervailing pressures of society and conformity.

Emerson was once described as “a walking middle finger to the dumb traditions and sheeplike thinking that held people back.”

He wrote a long essay called “Self-Reliance” that I think should be taught in every school at the earliest ages.

According to Emerson, we need to reclaim our privacy. “My life is for itself and not a spectacle,’’ he wrote. How different that attitude is to today, when it seems as if there is no event, no emotion, no feeling that shouldn’t be shared with absolute strangers on social media – what’s called “oversharing.”

He also said we need to stop conforming to others’ thinking. “Whoso should be a man must be a nonconformist,’’ Emerson wrote. Even if you’re inclined to believe what you hear, you should still be skeptical. When you read or hear of something happened that sound outrageous, or are told that someone said something really offensive, see if you can find another source that verifies what you’re being told. I’ve fallen victim to quoting someone for something in turns out they did not say, just because it sounded like something they could have said. I’m still shocked at how much stuff is repeated, particularly on the internet, that a simply search will reveal to be false. And yet so many people get so worked up over it because – as the saying goes – “I read it on the internet; it must be true.”

Which brings up the next point: be true to yourself. “The great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude.” Emerson also recognizes that going your own way can have a price. “For nonconformity, the world whips you with its displeasure.”

Don’t always go for instant gratification. Some things take time, and are worth pursuing even if it takes a while. “Instead of the gong for dinner, let us hear a whistle from the Spartan fife,’’ he writes. Have self-discipline. Refuse yourself instant, easy reward. Does it sometimes hurt? Of course it does. Going after the best rather than the easiest often does. But it’s usually worth it.

Then Emerson seems to go on to say that silly things, trivial things, immoral things, are not even worth condemning. Just eliminate them from your life. Don’t give them another thought. He says, “If you are noble, I will love you … but if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by hypocritical attentions.” Focus on what can improve you, not on what frustrates you.

But also be willing to change your mind. This is hard, especially when people today seem to want to hold others accountable for attitudes they had years or even decades ago, as if people can’t change. With age should come maturity; with maturity, a better sense of what’s important and right. We should change. Emerson wrote, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by littles statesmen and philosophers and divines.” Say what you believe to be true without apology, even if it’s not what you said last week or last year.

Because it’s important to speak the truth. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Maybe especially if its uncomfortable.

But – and here’s where I go back to another source of ancient wisdom – the Apostle Paul writes in his letter to the Ephesians, “speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.”

Speaking the truth in love is not just about honesty. How often have you heard someone start a sentence with “I’ve got to be honest…” and know that whatever comes next is likely to be hurtful? We should speak the truth in a way that builds up other people, not offends (although offense sometimes can’t be avoided). Because, as an old Christian hymn based on the writings of John says, “They will know we are Christians by our love.”

As a t-shirt I once owned said, “Even a dead fish goes downstream. Go against the flow.”

I think Emerson would agree.

Friends of Jesus

 

Did the Son of God have anyone with which he could be the 'son of man?'

I have a good friend, Chris. We’ve known each other over 20 years but really been friends for the last 15 or 16 years. We’ve been there for each other through a lot of life. I’ve written before about friendship in terms of the movie “Tombstone,’’ and if you have a friend that you know would face the mythical “Clantons” – the bad guys in the movie – like Doc Holliday did with Wyatt Earp. Chris is that person for me.

We have an agreement: whatever one of us says to the other, we will not repeat it anywhere, to anyone, and – unless it’s particularly egregious – will not judge it. We have learned that sometimes you need to just say something out loud, things you can’t say to your wife or anyone else because the words might be misunderstood or – more likely – it’s something that once you say it, you hear yourself say it and it’s over. It’s the power of being able to verbalize frustration or pain or anger without taking any of that out on someone. It gives both of us a safe space to get something out of our system.

It’s a really valuable relationship to have. As much as I love my wife (and I do), I am also careful to try not to say something that might hurt or offend her; with Chris, that doesn’t matter. I mean, really, what’s he going to do to me?

Then I wondered if Jesus, on His time on earth, had friends like that. We tend to think of the Disciples being Jesus’ friends, but they weren’t really; at least not initially. They were 12 men he picked to teach, to leave with instructions on how to carry on His ministry. And there are stories of how frustrating that relationship was for Jesus at times. He had a responsibility for them.

Then I read about the siblings: Mary, Martha and Lazarus.

Mary, Martha and Lazarus were apparently good friends of Jesus. At least, in John 11:5 it says, “Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.” The three are from Bethany (Mary is referred to as “Mary of Bethany” to identify her from the other Marys in the Gospels). Bethany was a village in Judea about two miles east of Jerusalem (John 11:18). Scholars say Bethany was situated on the well-traveled road to Jericho, and a place Jesus seemed to visit frequently.

In addition to Mary, Martha and Lazarus, Bethany was the home of Simon the leper (Mark 14:3–10), and Mark and Luke describe it as the place where the disciples prepared for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem that final week. It’s where Jesus cursed the fig tree (Mark 11:11-13), and where Jesus returned to rest after visiting the Temple, after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem but before his crucifixion. It’s not far-fetched to think Jesus used Mary, Martha and Lazarus’ home as that place to rest and prepare for what was coming.

I don’t know when Jesus first met the three siblings, but it’s apparent he knew them well, stayed with them frequently, and they were comfortable enough with Jesus to speak their minds with him.

One of the first stories is the one where Martha is busy preparing a meal to feed Jesus and his entourage, while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet. Martha says to Jesus, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself! Tell her to help me!” To tell Jesus what to do is either really bold, or else they had the kind of relationship where Martha could speak her mind to Jesus without fear.

By the way, while it does seem that Jesus is rebuking Martha for being busy when she could have been sitting and listening to him, I wonder if the point was not that Martha was busy preparing the meal for everyone – somebody had to do that - but that she had a bad attitude, a “woe-is-me” moment where she felt she was being put upon. Maybe it could have just as easily been Mary who complained to Jesus, saying, “Lord, tell Martha to quit with all this banging of pots and pans and rushing about so we can listen to you.” And if so, might Jesus not have rebuked her as he did Martha.

And then there is the story where Lazarus has died. Jesus shows up late, at least from the sisters’ perspective, and when he finally gets there Martha (and later Mary) says to Jesus, “If you had been here, our brother would not have died!” Again, Martha seems to feel free to chastise Jesus for being, from her perspective, late. “Hey, we sent for you days ago! Where have you been? You could have stopped this!” And in fact, she was right – Jesus purposely delayed his arrival, knowing full well that Lazarus was going to die before he got there.

And when Jesus got to Lazarus’ tomb, we get the shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept.”

Even though Jesus knew what he was going to do, he was still apparently overcome with the emotion of his friends and what their pain and perception of this tragedy.

Jesus clearly loved Lazarus, but he did not invite Lazarus to join his traveling band of disciples. That, too, is kind of curious to me when you consider that among the men that Jesus did pick, he didn’t pick at least one long-time friend. There had to have been men Jesus grew up with, that he’d known for years (maybe Lazarus was one of those?) Instead, after a full night of prayer, Jesus picks a hated tax collector, a left-wing radical, two brothers with a temper known as the Sons of Thunder, and a guy that would eventually betray him.

Jesus didn’t seem to have someone like Lazarus, a man that clearly Jesus loved and with whom Jesus seemed to enjoy visiting often at his home in Bethany.

Maybe – and I admit this is a big “maybe”– Jesus needed a friend who he could relax with, who he could talk about the things that were happening in his ministry without worrying about how his words might be interpreted or second-guessed; where he could say “Can you believe what Thomas did?” or “This Judas is going to be the death of me.” (OK, maybe that went to far).

I wonder if the human side of Jesus didn’t need a place to escape, to relax, to not have to be “on” all the time; to escape the scrutiny of the people looking for miracles or the Pharisees looking for him to trip up. Scripture says Jesus did not have a place to “lay his head,’’ meaning he did not have a home. I wonder if this place in Bethany was not the closest thing to a home Jesus had on earth, a place where the Son of God could just be fully “human,” truly the “son of man.”

Or maybe I’m reading far too much into this.

I just know that it’s good to have a friend that you can relax and be yourself with, without fear of being misunderstood or second-guessed.

Friendship is not always about having someone who will go to war with you.

More often than not, it’s about having someone with whom you can enjoy some peace.