So I'm prayerfully considering writing a few blogs about Christian personality types, based off of the 12 tribes of Israel, the 7 redemptive giftings, the 5 calls, and a few other things. Shout if you're interested.
So it's a couple weeks after the surgery, and I'm itching to get back out to it. I'm also itching to go back to Cagayan. To that end, I've also been thinking about adding advertisements to the blog - not that I like them, not that I want them, but that any profits that come in from them get me back there. Another little change that might not be a change, but any income is welcome these days...even if it means selling out a little.
Let's see - what else can I write about? I'm considering a rebuttal against atheism again, a few recipies, another list of new music that is hitting home right about now, as well as the joys of sharing old television shows with my son. Might even share a few of my favorite software tools and Google hacks...but that's beside the point.
Anyways - time to wrap this one up again. Probably a more fulfilling blog next time.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
57th Confession
I'm an older brother.
This comes as no surprise to anyone who knows my family, but there's a deeper truth to this. Yes, I have a younger sibling (holla, Lauren), but I've also been saved since a very young age. I grew up saved by grace since about six, and I really don't know any other way to live.
This brings me to a parable that Jesus told. It had two brothers in it, as well - an older and a younger. The younger asks his father for his inheritance (basically writing the father off as dead), goes out and blows it, and then finds himself in a mess. He decides - after he comes to himself - to go back home, beg forgiveness, and sell himself back to his father. And while he was a long way off, his father sees him and has compassion, runs and falls on his neck and kisses him. The son begins his well rehearsed speech about being no longer worthy to be called his son. The father interrupts him and begins a feast, with his younger son as the guest of honor.
And that's where a lot of church sermons start. I have heard this parable taught as a salvation message I don't know how many times. "Come back, thou corrupted backslider, for thy God shall have mercy on thee." Or, "Come to the Kingdom of God, you lost and prodigal." And there's nothing wrong with this kind of message - I believe it's necessary, sometimes, to call out the ones who are on the verge of either coming home or sliding away.
But what I hate is that it's only half of a story. All the sermons that I've heard focus on the younger brother. But I'm not a younger brother...am I? I'm an older brother. I'm an older brother. I'm the one who hasn't slid away. I've stayed and worked, I've been faithful, even when it's been crazy. I'm the one who fights being burnt out, even when it'd be easier to take my younger brother's route.
The promise of the father is wonderfulness itself - all he has is mine. Of course, the father's explanation shows his heart of love and forgiveness. Dead son, come back to life. Omnia vincit amor. There is no condemnation in the father toward his older son or his younger.
But there's that lingering sensation of burning in myself. Isn't there more to life than this kind of existence? Work for the father, with promises of future reward?
Why is it so hard to ask Father for something for myself?
And honestly, at that point, it feels like I become the younger brother, having written off my father's generosity and love, condemning him for his laisesz faire toward me. I don't recall there being any "joy" in my salvation; it just was. It was a choice for me - a choice to follow Him as best as I could, in all the ways that I could, loving Him the best I could, with all my heart, mind, will, emotions...but there was no "joy" about my choice.
I don't understand the phrase "joy of my salvation." I grew up saved. Where is the joy? Rejoicing, I understand. Continuously giving thanks, I get that. But I don't understand the joy coming from making a choice away from death as intimately as those who have.
Maybe I'm over-analyzing this, but on the other hand, maybe there's a different kind of joy for older brothers like me. Maybe I'm searching for something that isn't the same for me that it is for others. It seems to be the same as searching for my people.
Thank you, Father, for loving the older brothers, too.
This comes as no surprise to anyone who knows my family, but there's a deeper truth to this. Yes, I have a younger sibling (holla, Lauren), but I've also been saved since a very young age. I grew up saved by grace since about six, and I really don't know any other way to live.
This brings me to a parable that Jesus told. It had two brothers in it, as well - an older and a younger. The younger asks his father for his inheritance (basically writing the father off as dead), goes out and blows it, and then finds himself in a mess. He decides - after he comes to himself - to go back home, beg forgiveness, and sell himself back to his father. And while he was a long way off, his father sees him and has compassion, runs and falls on his neck and kisses him. The son begins his well rehearsed speech about being no longer worthy to be called his son. The father interrupts him and begins a feast, with his younger son as the guest of honor.
And that's where a lot of church sermons start. I have heard this parable taught as a salvation message I don't know how many times. "Come back, thou corrupted backslider, for thy God shall have mercy on thee." Or, "Come to the Kingdom of God, you lost and prodigal." And there's nothing wrong with this kind of message - I believe it's necessary, sometimes, to call out the ones who are on the verge of either coming home or sliding away.
But what I hate is that it's only half of a story. All the sermons that I've heard focus on the younger brother. But I'm not a younger brother...am I? I'm an older brother. I'm an older brother. I'm the one who hasn't slid away. I've stayed and worked, I've been faithful, even when it's been crazy. I'm the one who fights being burnt out, even when it'd be easier to take my younger brother's route.
The promise of the father is wonderfulness itself - all he has is mine. Of course, the father's explanation shows his heart of love and forgiveness. Dead son, come back to life. Omnia vincit amor. There is no condemnation in the father toward his older son or his younger.
But there's that lingering sensation of burning in myself. Isn't there more to life than this kind of existence? Work for the father, with promises of future reward?
Why is it so hard to ask Father for something for myself?
And honestly, at that point, it feels like I become the younger brother, having written off my father's generosity and love, condemning him for his laisesz faire toward me. I don't recall there being any "joy" in my salvation; it just was. It was a choice for me - a choice to follow Him as best as I could, in all the ways that I could, loving Him the best I could, with all my heart, mind, will, emotions...but there was no "joy" about my choice.
I don't understand the phrase "joy of my salvation." I grew up saved. Where is the joy? Rejoicing, I understand. Continuously giving thanks, I get that. But I don't understand the joy coming from making a choice away from death as intimately as those who have.
Maybe I'm over-analyzing this, but on the other hand, maybe there's a different kind of joy for older brothers like me. Maybe I'm searching for something that isn't the same for me that it is for others. It seems to be the same as searching for my people.
Thank you, Father, for loving the older brothers, too.
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