Keep Him Away in a Manger

Keep him away in a manger, no crib for a bed
I'd rather not think of the thorns 'round his head
It pains me to picture his back beaten raw
Just give me the baby, asleep on the straw

The cattle! The wise men from far, distant lands!
The little Lord Jesus who makes no demands
I love the old carols and things in that vein
Just stay in the cradle and don't make me change

Be Little Lord Christchild, I ask thee to stay
The babe in a manger forever, I pray
To die when you're perfect would be such a loss
It's far too disturbing: the blood and the cross

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Truth is...this really is the desire of a lot of folks; enamored with the romanticism and fairytale quality of The Christmas Story, but uncomfortable with the grisly necessity of Good Friday.

Where Was God?

For Newtown, Connecticut

Children were killed
Where was God?
'Cause don't you think it massively odd
That innocent sons and daughters are dead
Because of a guy so sick in the head?

Kindergarten kids will soon
Be placed beneath the sod
And living ones still scream through dreams
So tell me, where was God?

I think that God
Weeps the same
As when his son accepted blame
For every wrong we'll ever do
And Jesus died for me and you

God didn't stop the angry mob
When with their clubs they came
And gave the giver of breath his death
I think God weeps the same

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Truth is...God refuses to be a puppet master, so there will always be horrible things happening until time itself comes to an end. But just as he did with the crucifixion of Jesus, God still squeezes good out of even the worst that humankind can dish out.

Jesus Was WHAT?!!?

It's often been said that Larry Norman was the grandfather of Contemporary Christian Music...that his pioneering blending of folk/rock music with spiritual truth in the late 60's helped create "Jesus Music" and was a major part of the soundtrack for the phenomenon of hippies coming to Christ that was called "The Jesus Movement."

I was never really a hippy, and I grew up in the flat-lands of Northern Indiana instead of the beaches of Southern California or anywhere near Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco...but I felt the influence nonetheless. The setting aside of theological navel-gazing and denominational chest-thumping and just focusing on this guy Jesus really struck a chord with me...and it didn't hurt that I could play along with the simple chords of classic rock that came charging from the vinyl grooves of the hard-to-find albums by the likes of Norman, Randy Stonehill, Phil Keaggy, and Love Song.

That focus on Jesus is what drew me to Norman, as is perfectly demonstrated in his song, "The Outlaw."

Some say he was an outlaw, that he roamed across the land
With a band of unschooled ruffians and a few old fishermen
No one knew just where he came from or exactly what he'd done
But they said it must be something bad that kept him on the run

Some say he was a poet, that he'd stand upon the hill
And his voice could calm an angry crowd or make the waves stand still
That he spoke in many parables that few could understand
But the people sat for hours just to listen to this man

Some say he was a sorcerer, a man of mystery
He could walk upon the water, he could make a blind man see
That he conjured wine at weddings and did tricks with fish and bread
That he talked of being born again and raised people from the dead

Some say a politician, who spoke of being free
He was followed by the masses on the shores of Galilee
He spoke out against corruption and he bowed to no decree
And they feared his strength and power, so they nailed him to a tree

Some say he was the Son of God, a man above all men
That he came to be a servant and to set us free from sin
And that's who I believe he was, 'cause that's who I believe
And I think we should get ready, 'cause it's time for us to leave

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Truth is...you can talk, you can talk, you can bicker, you can talk, you can talk-talk-talk, you can bicker-bicker-bicker...but it all comes down to one question: What do you say about Jesus?

Look! It's Jesus!

"If you turn on any of my crew..."

The intense scene pictured above is from the 9th of only 14 episodes of the 2002-2003 television series, Firefly. The loveable scalawag, Captain Mal, has caught the man named Jayne in an act of treason...turning in a pair of fugitives from the evil Alliance that was part of the ship's crew. Jayne defends himself by saying, "It's not like I turned on YOU!"

The quick and angry response is, "You turn on any member of my crew, and you turn on me! You did it to me, Jayne! And that's a fact."

Sound slightly familiar to any Bible readers out there?

It's a reverse image of something Jesus said about feeding the hungry, clothing the needy, tending to the sick, visiting the lonely...

"If you've done it to the least of these brothers of mine, you've done it to me."

Kind of makes you want to think twice before avoiding eye contact with the Salvation Army bell-ringer, or hoarding all those perfectly good coats you'll never wear again, doesn't it? Kind of makes you wonder if the soup kitchen ought to be keeping kosher in order to not offend the line of Jewish carpenters outside its door.

"You did it to ME!"

Truth is...we maybe should be going beyond treating others as we would have them treat us, and instead, start treating others as we would want to treat Jesus.

The Tyranny of Perfection

According to tennis great Andre Agassi's autobiography, Open, Agassi got some important advice from Brad Gilbert when he and his manager were recruiting Gilbert to be Agassi's coach. They asked Gilbert for an honest, brutal-if-necessary evaluation of Agassi's game, and Gilbert pulled no punches:

You always try to be perfect, and you always fall short, and it [messes] with your head. Your confidence is shot, and perfectionism is the reason. You try to hit a winner on every ball, when just being steady, consistent, meat and potatoes would be enough to win ninety percent of the time.

Quit going for the knockout. Stop swinging for the fences. All you have to be is solid. Singles, doubles, move the chains forward. Stop thinking about yourself and your own game and remember that the guy on the other side of the net has weaknesses. Attack his weaknesses. You don't have to be the best in the world every time you go out there. You just have to be better than one guy. Instead of you succeeding, make him fail. Better yet, let him fail. ...

Right now, by trying for a perfect shot with every ball, you're stacking the odds against yourself. You're assuming too much risk. You don't need to assume so much risk. [Forget] that. Just keep the ball moving: back and forth, nice and easy, solid. Be like gravity, man... . When you chase perfection, when you make perfection the ultimate goal, do you know what you're doing? You're chasing something that doesn't exist. You're making everyone around you miserable. You're making yourself miserable. Perfection? There's about five times a year you wake up perfect; when you can't lose to anybody. But it's not those five times a year that make a tennis player; or a human being, for that matter. It's the other times.

It's all about your head, man. With your talent, if you're fifty percent game-wise, but ninety-five percent head-wise, you're going to win. But if you're ninety-five percent game-wise and fifty percent head-wise, you're going to lose, lose, lose.

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Truth is...Earth has felt the footsteps of only one perfect being, and we killed him. So, take it easy on yourself. By the way, under the leadership of Brad Gilbert, Andre Agassi experienced one of the most successful periods of his career.

[SLAP!] Thanks, I Needed That

I recently began reading a book by Brennan Manning, The Signature of Jesus. I have really benefited from everything I've ever read by Manning (especially The Ragamuffin Gospel, from which I will surely be quoting in this space sometime in the future) and what I've read so far in this book has certainly not disappointed.

Especially moving is this note that was found in the office of a young pastor in Zimbabwe, Africa...following his death...a death caused because the young man believed in Jesus.

I'm part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit's power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made - I'm a disciple of his. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I'm finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean in his presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer, and I labor with power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions are few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won't give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till he comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till he stops me. And, when he comes for his own, he will have no problem recognizing me...my banner will be clear!

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There have been times - not nearly recently enough - when I felt like this. And those are the times when I've been the most filled with joy. Perhaps that's why I've also highlighted another paragraph: Philosopher William James said, "In some people religion exists as a dull habit, in others as an acute fever." Jesus did not endure the shame of the cross to pass on a dull habit. (If you don't have the fever, dear reader, a passion for God and his Christ, drop this book, fall on your knees, and beg for it. Turn to the God you half-believe in and cry out for his baptism of fire.)

Truth is...I need a slap in the face like this every so often. Maybe I'm not the only one.

Oh, The Joys Of Heroin

Ron Asheton, of Iggy Pop's punk group, the Stooges, is quoted in the book, Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, by Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain:

The shooting gallery in Fun House [their communal residence] was my brother's apartment. It had a bedroom, a bathroom, and it was perfect for shooting dope - a dark green tile floor, a big round table, and those kind of cheap white acoustical ceiling things they used to have in doctors' offices. Very fifties. The walls were already kind of brown, but the worst thing was that the acoustical tiles were all bloodstained. And there were big blood drips on the floor, and on the walls, because when you pull a needle out of your arm after shooting up, some blood gets in the syringe, and to clean it out, you squirt it.

So they squirted the walls and the ceiling a lot. Shhhhtick...blood on the ceiling, blood on the walls, just good drops, like if you took a squirt gun and just shot water up there. This went on for a long time. It wasn't all red, just big ugly brown stains, but a lot of times there would be fresh red stuff. Then it would drip on the table or on the floor, where they'd throw their cotton balls. Such degradation.

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Sin is like that. We justify and justify and have reason after reason why it's okay...but when we look back at it, it kind of makes us sick.

Truth is...it's amazing the uncool stuff we do that we think is cool when we're in the midst of doing it.