Sometimes I feel pretty hypocritical writing things like what I'm going to write because I see what an incredible hypocrite I am. But sometimes, like now, I just have to write anyway:)
From Jeremiah: "So the word of the Lord has brought me insult and reproach all day long. But if I say, 'I will not mention Him or speak any more in His name', His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my very bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot."
So it's the first week of Advent, of the four weeks of Advent, culminating in Christmas. I was reading this in a book, and it was so wonderful. Ever since I became a Christian, the Bible became living to me, and I long to delve deeper and deeper into it, to discover its layer upon layer upon layer of meaning, much like a Holy lasagna! There is so much in it that I wrestle with, so much that I frankly don't like, and even more that is completely incomprehensible to me. But nevertheless, it is truly living and active, and revelatory. As we prepare our hearts to celebrate Christ's birth, it would do me well to remember all of the miraculous events surrounding His life and death.
From "Fifth Seal" by Bodie and Brock Thoene:
The rushing wind stirred the wild oats. Oak leaves rattled as the sun sank low in the west and the twilight fell. And then, on the breeze, Yosef heard the voice:
' Yosef bar Jacob...Yosef, son of Jacob. Adonai has heard your question.'
"Which question? I've asked so many!"
'How is it that the Messiah is called Bar El Olam -- Son of the Eternal God -- yet will live on earth and be called Yeshua bar Yosef?' Before time existed, He existed. Listen to the Word of Adonai..."In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were created; without Him nothing was created which had been created. In Him is the life, and that life is the light of men. The light will shine in the darkness, but the darkness will not understand it."
"You speak of Messiah. Of the baby Mary carries. Yeshua, who will be my son. Yeshua bar Yosef...Son of the mighty Elohim? Yeshua bar Yahweh? I still don't know how it can be or why."
'He is within the first word of Scripture. Think, Yosef, of the first word in Torah. Six Hebrew letters: bet....resh....alef....sheen....yod....tav....pronounced BeRESHiYT. What does it mean?'
"In the beginning."
'These six letters contain the clue to all creation. Read it in Hebrew. Only two letters at a time. Begin, "In the beginning".
"Bet Resh".
'Stop there. Now tell me what small Hebrew word is spelled by Bet Resh.'
"The first two Hebrew letters of "in the beginning" are Bet and Resh...the exact same spelling as the Hebrew word for Bar! Son! Bar! It indicates the 'heir apparent, a ruler coequal with his father'."
'Now, the next two letters, please.'
"Alef. Sheen. Of course! This spells the Hebrew word for 'foundation'! The next two letters Yod and Tav spell Yath! This mean 'who'!...Bet...Resh...Alef...the word is Bara. This means 'created'!"
'Now, breaking the Hebrew sentence into these smaller words, what eternal truth do the first nine letters of Genesis explain?'
"Bar...son...heir of the Father. Osh...from foundation. Yath...who. Bara....created."
'Go on. One with Elohim, He created...the heavens and the earth.' Yosef's visitor stood and bowed deeply as he finished his proclamation.'The Word of the Lord. This amplifies the truth of eternity. It does not contradict it. So, you see, within the Hebrew word IN THE BEGINNING is also the identity of the Creator. He is the Son. He is the Heir. He has existed from the Foundation. He is the Word. The Creator. The Son and Heir is one in being with Elohim. And there is much, much more. So very much more eternal truth woven into these nine letters...if only we had time.'
"Wait! Don't go! Don't leave me feeling so...small!"
'It is written. Soon! Soon! He is coming soon! You will behold him face-to-face. Immanu'el...God-with-us.'
On a typically cruddy and frustrating Monday, this was just what I needed to read to remind me that God's got it under control.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
My First Stint as an NP...Sorta
So, today was my first 'official' "clinical" as an NP...there are so many quotes there because I spent the day at a Health Fair, and did nothing beyond general nursing. But as it happened under the purview of my NP curriculum, I'm counting it. I wasn't so sure what to expect; we were at a very cool organization by Columbia's main campus, and were there all day to do general screening and whatnot for the employees, of which there were many.
I started out the morning at the Urology station, shadowing a dickens of a doctor, who told me, upon meeting him, that he was "One hundred and forty years old!" and proclaimed his profession to be "plumber", when asked if he was a doctor! He was an absolute hoot! Anyone who knows me knows my odd affinity for all people old, and I wanted to just put him in my pocket and take him home with me, he was so adorable! He was talking about his history, speaking in a mellow Irish brogue, reciting his tales of med school and training. He has been in the states for years, but grew up and received training in Dublin and London, and came here with his family many years ago.
His favorite thing to talk about was urology jokes. Definitely inapprops, and most likely offensive to at least half of the general populace, but coming from him, it just made one laugh. He really liked one about a Polish urologist: "You know how doctors do a rectal exam of your prostate with just one finger? Well, there was this Polish urologist. And another doctor was with him one day, and noticed that the Polish urologist was doing an exam with two fingers, instead of the customary one. So he asked him about it. The Polish doctor answered, 'I do it with two...one to do the exam, the other to give a second opinion!'" Laughing ensues:) Then he asked us if we had ever heard of the 'pasteurized' diet. No, we answered, you mean like milk and stuff? "Oh no", he says, and winks at me. "You just watch the food go past-your-eyes!!" Hahaha. So stinkin adorable, I almost couldn't take it. We talked about pelvic floor exercises and stress incontinence (peeing your pants when laughing/coughing/etc) and other such delightful subjects. I loved working with him!
Then it was time to rotate out. Giti and I went out to the registration table, the table that pretty much determined the flow of the whole room. It was our turn to direct things. And by direct, I mean, collate some papers and give them to people to sign. The funny thing was, by this time, I was getting low blood sugar cause I hadn't eaten in a few hours, and was starting to see everything as quite funny. Giti seemed to be similarly affected, so that didn't really bode well for the professionalism aspect that we are supposed to portray as NPs.
So we receive a quick tutorial from some fellow students, and sit down to see what we can do. Which turns out to be, not much. Anything beyond putting intake papers on a clipboard and telling people to bring back the pens seemed to be totally beyond us. If someone asked us a question about anything but that, we'd look at each other, and feel like saying, "Yeah. Between the two of us we have about five advanced degrees. But we're doing the papers. So we're gonna go ahead and direct you to that person over there who most likely knows as little as we do, but will make up an answer for you. Have a lovely day." No, we didn't say that, but we sure as hell felt like it. We'd send people to the blood pressure table, thinking, "Riiiiiiggghhhht. Why don't you just go over there to (whomever-insert classmate's name here), and she'll hook you up with a reeeeaal nice blood pressure. Yeah, I know a guy. You want a good pressure? Something to lower your rates for the insurance company? Yeah, just go see my friend over there. She'll take care of you good..." said in best imitation mob member voice.
We were laughing so hard that at one point I had tears rolling down my face and was gasping for air. And I was not unobtrusive at all, which made it worse. We got to the point of saying the same thing over and over, "Hi! Welcome. Just fill out all your information on the white part, sign here by the x, then (turning to next page), sign your name here and date. Then bring back the clipboard and pen, and we'll direct you where to go next!" and maybe it was the repetitiveness of it or something, but Giti was rolling through the schpeal and I lost it. I bent over and 'pretended' to be looking for some papers under the table but was really silently laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. And then I hear Giti losing it as she explains things to a client, which is NOT good, and when she is done, she gets up and excuses herself. She has to leave the room she is laughing so hard. We physically could not even look at each other without losing it.
I have this bad feeling that someday, I'll get attacked with the giggles at an inapprops time, which honestly, happens to me more than it should, and a patient will think I'm laughing at them. Like, someone comes in to see me, and I am reviewing the results of their bloodwork with them, and it turns out that they are positive for tumor markers and their MRI shows a mass and the biopsy came back positive, and I have to tell them they have cancer. And I look up at them, and start laughing. Deep, trembling belly laughs. Totally inappropriate laughing. And I can't stop. I just can't stop. I would probably be the person who laughs at a funeral, even though inside I might be devastated and weeping and missing the person so badly, outside, something would strike me as funny and I'd be off. I really need to work on this.
So when we came back from lunch, I was doing blood pressures, which morphed into health counseling, and I found myself spewing out info about cholesterol levels, BMI, blood pressure, etc. and I had no idea where it was coming from. Turns out I know a little more than I generally think I do. But I often feel like I know just a wee bit more than a patient, and think, "Wow, if you really knew that I am desperately searching my mind for this info, and I'm pretty sure I know it, but maybe I don't, I don't know..." but having to appear completely confident on the outside, it makes me think of what my friend Ash says about it. Seeing as we are all new nurses, she said that her first few months on the job felt like it was all smoke and mirrors...you say something to the patient which you are mostly sure about, but you have to convey it in an ultra-confident manner. Now, I don't want anyone to get the impression that we don't go ask someone if we don't know; we do, and I hope I do for the rest of my career. But it is just funny because you put on these professional white coats and have your stethoscope and people come up to you and ask you about cholesterol or something and you think,"Dang! Thank God I just reviewed that this morning, otherwise I'd really not know what to say!"
So, overall good day, fun stuff, and I am feeling very nurse practitioner-y tonight.
I started out the morning at the Urology station, shadowing a dickens of a doctor, who told me, upon meeting him, that he was "One hundred and forty years old!" and proclaimed his profession to be "plumber", when asked if he was a doctor! He was an absolute hoot! Anyone who knows me knows my odd affinity for all people old, and I wanted to just put him in my pocket and take him home with me, he was so adorable! He was talking about his history, speaking in a mellow Irish brogue, reciting his tales of med school and training. He has been in the states for years, but grew up and received training in Dublin and London, and came here with his family many years ago.
His favorite thing to talk about was urology jokes. Definitely inapprops, and most likely offensive to at least half of the general populace, but coming from him, it just made one laugh. He really liked one about a Polish urologist: "You know how doctors do a rectal exam of your prostate with just one finger? Well, there was this Polish urologist. And another doctor was with him one day, and noticed that the Polish urologist was doing an exam with two fingers, instead of the customary one. So he asked him about it. The Polish doctor answered, 'I do it with two...one to do the exam, the other to give a second opinion!'" Laughing ensues:) Then he asked us if we had ever heard of the 'pasteurized' diet. No, we answered, you mean like milk and stuff? "Oh no", he says, and winks at me. "You just watch the food go past-your-eyes!!" Hahaha. So stinkin adorable, I almost couldn't take it. We talked about pelvic floor exercises and stress incontinence (peeing your pants when laughing/coughing/etc) and other such delightful subjects. I loved working with him!
Then it was time to rotate out. Giti and I went out to the registration table, the table that pretty much determined the flow of the whole room. It was our turn to direct things. And by direct, I mean, collate some papers and give them to people to sign. The funny thing was, by this time, I was getting low blood sugar cause I hadn't eaten in a few hours, and was starting to see everything as quite funny. Giti seemed to be similarly affected, so that didn't really bode well for the professionalism aspect that we are supposed to portray as NPs.
So we receive a quick tutorial from some fellow students, and sit down to see what we can do. Which turns out to be, not much. Anything beyond putting intake papers on a clipboard and telling people to bring back the pens seemed to be totally beyond us. If someone asked us a question about anything but that, we'd look at each other, and feel like saying, "Yeah. Between the two of us we have about five advanced degrees. But we're doing the papers. So we're gonna go ahead and direct you to that person over there who most likely knows as little as we do, but will make up an answer for you. Have a lovely day." No, we didn't say that, but we sure as hell felt like it. We'd send people to the blood pressure table, thinking, "Riiiiiiggghhhht. Why don't you just go over there to (whomever-insert classmate's name here), and she'll hook you up with a reeeeaal nice blood pressure. Yeah, I know a guy. You want a good pressure? Something to lower your rates for the insurance company? Yeah, just go see my friend over there. She'll take care of you good..." said in best imitation mob member voice.
We were laughing so hard that at one point I had tears rolling down my face and was gasping for air. And I was not unobtrusive at all, which made it worse. We got to the point of saying the same thing over and over, "Hi! Welcome. Just fill out all your information on the white part, sign here by the x, then (turning to next page), sign your name here and date. Then bring back the clipboard and pen, and we'll direct you where to go next!" and maybe it was the repetitiveness of it or something, but Giti was rolling through the schpeal and I lost it. I bent over and 'pretended' to be looking for some papers under the table but was really silently laughing so hard I almost peed my pants. And then I hear Giti losing it as she explains things to a client, which is NOT good, and when she is done, she gets up and excuses herself. She has to leave the room she is laughing so hard. We physically could not even look at each other without losing it.
I have this bad feeling that someday, I'll get attacked with the giggles at an inapprops time, which honestly, happens to me more than it should, and a patient will think I'm laughing at them. Like, someone comes in to see me, and I am reviewing the results of their bloodwork with them, and it turns out that they are positive for tumor markers and their MRI shows a mass and the biopsy came back positive, and I have to tell them they have cancer. And I look up at them, and start laughing. Deep, trembling belly laughs. Totally inappropriate laughing. And I can't stop. I just can't stop. I would probably be the person who laughs at a funeral, even though inside I might be devastated and weeping and missing the person so badly, outside, something would strike me as funny and I'd be off. I really need to work on this.
So when we came back from lunch, I was doing blood pressures, which morphed into health counseling, and I found myself spewing out info about cholesterol levels, BMI, blood pressure, etc. and I had no idea where it was coming from. Turns out I know a little more than I generally think I do. But I often feel like I know just a wee bit more than a patient, and think, "Wow, if you really knew that I am desperately searching my mind for this info, and I'm pretty sure I know it, but maybe I don't, I don't know..." but having to appear completely confident on the outside, it makes me think of what my friend Ash says about it. Seeing as we are all new nurses, she said that her first few months on the job felt like it was all smoke and mirrors...you say something to the patient which you are mostly sure about, but you have to convey it in an ultra-confident manner. Now, I don't want anyone to get the impression that we don't go ask someone if we don't know; we do, and I hope I do for the rest of my career. But it is just funny because you put on these professional white coats and have your stethoscope and people come up to you and ask you about cholesterol or something and you think,"Dang! Thank God I just reviewed that this morning, otherwise I'd really not know what to say!"
So, overall good day, fun stuff, and I am feeling very nurse practitioner-y tonight.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Fallishness
I was talking to my mother this morning, receiving the requisite advice about life in general, walking through the streets of NYC, and just generally feeling very happy. I have to be honest, and I know my California friends will absolutely boo this thought, but I'm not so thrilled about the 73 weather...I think fall should feel and look like fall...although I'm sure after a few days of freezing-ness, I'll be complaining about that too!
But talking to my mom suddenly shifted me back many years, to the great Wisconsin falls, and split pea soup. I can close my eyes and picture exactly a scene that took place, and repeated itself, many many years ago. My mom always made delicious, thick, split pea soup which we garnished with yummy croutons, and I'd sit at the kitchen table, looking out our windows and seeing that characteristic fall sky, nearly-leafless trees waving gently in the late afternoon breeze. The soup would be bubbling on the stove, mom and I both starving, but waiting for dad to get home from work so we could dive in to the green goodness. I can still smell and taste it! I told my mom this, and she told me that she was washing dishes this morning and suddenly flashed back to when I was a little girl, probably no more than three or four, helping my dad with the dishes. There is a picture of me, standing on a chair next to the sink, a towel tied around my waist, and 'helping' dad wash and dry our supper dishes. I've always loved doing the dishes, except for a brief stint of hating them in high school, so I guess this love came early. As far as I remember, I think I used to ask to help do the dishes...weird kid that I was!
It feels nice to take a few minutes to sit down and write something; it feels like forever. My days have been absorbed with studying for the recent slew of tests, studying that I am fervently praying paid off. Grad school is tough, but I love what I'm learning, even if, as my friend Kathleen pointed out, it often feels disorganized at best, and we have to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we will mostly be teaching ourselves. But, for what its worth, I am so thankful to God for the opportunity. The sucky thing though is not keeping in better touch with friends that I have around the country...those of you I owe calls to, please know I love you and always will, and we'll talk soon!
My birthday this year was indescribably fabulous, and I wake up each day, astonished at the blessings that the Lord has seen fit to give me, from amazing, irreplaceable friends, to a cozy apartment, to enough (but just barely enough) money in the bank acct, to loving parents, to a great Kitty! Life is not always easy; ha, who am I kidding? It is never easy; but God has given all of us blessings, every day, and I pray that we are all able, no matter where we are or what circumstances we find ourselves in, be able to have the eyes to see them. "Every good and perfect gift comes from the Father above", and what an incredible Father He is.
But talking to my mom suddenly shifted me back many years, to the great Wisconsin falls, and split pea soup. I can close my eyes and picture exactly a scene that took place, and repeated itself, many many years ago. My mom always made delicious, thick, split pea soup which we garnished with yummy croutons, and I'd sit at the kitchen table, looking out our windows and seeing that characteristic fall sky, nearly-leafless trees waving gently in the late afternoon breeze. The soup would be bubbling on the stove, mom and I both starving, but waiting for dad to get home from work so we could dive in to the green goodness. I can still smell and taste it! I told my mom this, and she told me that she was washing dishes this morning and suddenly flashed back to when I was a little girl, probably no more than three or four, helping my dad with the dishes. There is a picture of me, standing on a chair next to the sink, a towel tied around my waist, and 'helping' dad wash and dry our supper dishes. I've always loved doing the dishes, except for a brief stint of hating them in high school, so I guess this love came early. As far as I remember, I think I used to ask to help do the dishes...weird kid that I was!
It feels nice to take a few minutes to sit down and write something; it feels like forever. My days have been absorbed with studying for the recent slew of tests, studying that I am fervently praying paid off. Grad school is tough, but I love what I'm learning, even if, as my friend Kathleen pointed out, it often feels disorganized at best, and we have to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we will mostly be teaching ourselves. But, for what its worth, I am so thankful to God for the opportunity. The sucky thing though is not keeping in better touch with friends that I have around the country...those of you I owe calls to, please know I love you and always will, and we'll talk soon!
My birthday this year was indescribably fabulous, and I wake up each day, astonished at the blessings that the Lord has seen fit to give me, from amazing, irreplaceable friends, to a cozy apartment, to enough (but just barely enough) money in the bank acct, to loving parents, to a great Kitty! Life is not always easy; ha, who am I kidding? It is never easy; but God has given all of us blessings, every day, and I pray that we are all able, no matter where we are or what circumstances we find ourselves in, be able to have the eyes to see them. "Every good and perfect gift comes from the Father above", and what an incredible Father He is.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Observations on New York as Summer Draws to a Close
As I was walking down the street today, letting the early afternoon sunshine warm myself, I started thinking about stuff. Well, usually I am thinking about stuff; in fact, I can't get my head to shut up, which, when trying to sleep, is quite the pain. But I digress. I snapped out of my reverie in time to see an utterly and completely adorable old old Chinese man shuffling along in front of me. He was impossibly stooped, had a tuft of white hair crowning his head, and swung his arms in unison, propelling himself along. If I had timed him, I bet it would have taken him upwards of ten minutes to traverse the block, a distance that I could probably travel with many minutes to spare. But as I looked at him, and left my heart there at his feet, I thought about all of the other adorable old men and women I had seen on the streets this summer. Some were accompanied by aides, some were solitary. And as I look at these marvelous people, I try to imagine what they used to look like. Did that guy over there with the sloped shoulders used to stand tall and strong in his army uniform? Did that lady in front of me, no more than 4 feet tall, used to dress in her best and go out dancing on Saturday night? I think about the vast wealth of life experience and knowledge all of these pillars of society possess, locked away in their minds, and I hope against hope that someone, somewhere is writing it all down.
I pass a table selling, what I would charitably call, junk. "Buy this shit for a buck!" the signs should more accurately say; instead, what I read is: "Sea Creatures that expand in water-$1" or "Stickers! $0.50". I want to ask the guy sitting behind the table, "Um, excuse me, but does anyone really buy this crap?" and then I see it. The little capsules of stuff that looks like nothing, and when put into water expands into seahorses and dolphins and dragons, the stuff of imagination! And I remember how much I used to love playing with these things...my Mom would get them for me, and I can remember many a pleasant morning, watching them grow in water. It never got old. Well...maybe this table isn't all completely junk, after all:)
I keep walking, and a thought makes me laugh. Being a health professional now, I have lost all embarrassment about discussing bodily functions, so I say what I say next as candidly as possible. Coming from a family where gaseous emissions from the nether-regions of the body is practically an art form, I have noticed how New York absolutely lends itself to the ability to surreptitiously and anonymously release pent-up flatulence. One can be walking down the street, trying in vain to quench the desire to let it go, to cut the cheese, as it were, and realize, in a moment of clarity, "Wait! I can relieve myself! Right here! Right now! With the noise of the traffic and the ever-present potpourri of smells in the city, my little contribution will pass unnoticed! And, I'm walking so fast, no one can associate it with me anyway!" Not that I've ever thought this, of course. I'm just saying, one could:). Growing up with the male members of my family letting one go at shopping malls, grocery stores, and any number of inappropriate places, while walking briskly away from the point of impact with a smile on his face, leaving anyone unfortunate enough to be within a ten-mile radius the unpleasant surprise of a Weinkauf family gift. Yes, folks, we give only the best! This city disperses with those nagging thoughts of "What if that cute guy behind me smells it??" or "Gee, I hope no one hears me!" as one can walk merrily along, tooting like the trumpet in a brass band, and no one is the wiser.
Sitting at my computer, I notice how the sun hits the opposite wall differently than it did even a month ago, and I think about the inevitable transition of summer into fall, winter into spring. A cycle of life and death, a cycle of dormancy and sudden, startling birth, a cycle of joy in nature. This past week, the sky has been so blue as to almost sing with its blueness. I step outside, I take a deep breath, and I marvel at the beauty of the azure ceiling that covers us all, regardless of creed, nationality, or political ambition. I think about how the things that unify us are so much greater than all the little things that divide us, and how blessed we are to live in a country where these differences are able to be freely expressed. I might not agree with most of them, but I am so glad that people can say them without hesitation, because that means that I can voice my unpopular opinions as well.
I watch school children romping off to school, and I am suddenly taken back to my own grade-school days. I used to look with great anticipation to the beginning of a new school year. Nerd that I am, nothing thrilled me more than going school-supply shopping. The feel of a brand-new Crayola crayon, the bright colors of yet-to-be-used markers, the soft and slightly tangy sent of a freshly sharpened pencil, all made me want to dance with joy! Honestly, I just loved it. I loved a stack of looseleaf paper, eagerly anticipating all of the homework assignments and writing that those sheets would soon be filled with. I love learning new things, I love the challenge that comes with meeting an obstacle and trying to reason a way through it. Now, as I await the second semester of my graduate school experience next week, I can relive that glee that I felt when I was young. Maybe I'll go out and get a new pack of markers, just for old times' sake.
New York provides endless fodder for the imagination, and I am looking forward to a fall filled with new stories, new experiences, kicking through the leaves in Central Park, going for long walks along the Hudson, watching the changing trees, eating pumpkin pie, catching snowflakes on my tongue. Too many of us lose the wonder we felt as a child when experiencing these things. Now that I am fully adult and have to live in the 'real world', I have decided that this fall will be my fall of childlike-awe. I am going to not take the little joys for granted, but revel in each and ever sensory, intellectual, and personal experience. I can't wait!
I pass a table selling, what I would charitably call, junk. "Buy this shit for a buck!" the signs should more accurately say; instead, what I read is: "Sea Creatures that expand in water-$1" or "Stickers! $0.50". I want to ask the guy sitting behind the table, "Um, excuse me, but does anyone really buy this crap?" and then I see it. The little capsules of stuff that looks like nothing, and when put into water expands into seahorses and dolphins and dragons, the stuff of imagination! And I remember how much I used to love playing with these things...my Mom would get them for me, and I can remember many a pleasant morning, watching them grow in water. It never got old. Well...maybe this table isn't all completely junk, after all:)
I keep walking, and a thought makes me laugh. Being a health professional now, I have lost all embarrassment about discussing bodily functions, so I say what I say next as candidly as possible. Coming from a family where gaseous emissions from the nether-regions of the body is practically an art form, I have noticed how New York absolutely lends itself to the ability to surreptitiously and anonymously release pent-up flatulence. One can be walking down the street, trying in vain to quench the desire to let it go, to cut the cheese, as it were, and realize, in a moment of clarity, "Wait! I can relieve myself! Right here! Right now! With the noise of the traffic and the ever-present potpourri of smells in the city, my little contribution will pass unnoticed! And, I'm walking so fast, no one can associate it with me anyway!" Not that I've ever thought this, of course. I'm just saying, one could:). Growing up with the male members of my family letting one go at shopping malls, grocery stores, and any number of inappropriate places, while walking briskly away from the point of impact with a smile on his face, leaving anyone unfortunate enough to be within a ten-mile radius the unpleasant surprise of a Weinkauf family gift. Yes, folks, we give only the best! This city disperses with those nagging thoughts of "What if that cute guy behind me smells it??" or "Gee, I hope no one hears me!" as one can walk merrily along, tooting like the trumpet in a brass band, and no one is the wiser.
Sitting at my computer, I notice how the sun hits the opposite wall differently than it did even a month ago, and I think about the inevitable transition of summer into fall, winter into spring. A cycle of life and death, a cycle of dormancy and sudden, startling birth, a cycle of joy in nature. This past week, the sky has been so blue as to almost sing with its blueness. I step outside, I take a deep breath, and I marvel at the beauty of the azure ceiling that covers us all, regardless of creed, nationality, or political ambition. I think about how the things that unify us are so much greater than all the little things that divide us, and how blessed we are to live in a country where these differences are able to be freely expressed. I might not agree with most of them, but I am so glad that people can say them without hesitation, because that means that I can voice my unpopular opinions as well.
I watch school children romping off to school, and I am suddenly taken back to my own grade-school days. I used to look with great anticipation to the beginning of a new school year. Nerd that I am, nothing thrilled me more than going school-supply shopping. The feel of a brand-new Crayola crayon, the bright colors of yet-to-be-used markers, the soft and slightly tangy sent of a freshly sharpened pencil, all made me want to dance with joy! Honestly, I just loved it. I loved a stack of looseleaf paper, eagerly anticipating all of the homework assignments and writing that those sheets would soon be filled with. I love learning new things, I love the challenge that comes with meeting an obstacle and trying to reason a way through it. Now, as I await the second semester of my graduate school experience next week, I can relive that glee that I felt when I was young. Maybe I'll go out and get a new pack of markers, just for old times' sake.
New York provides endless fodder for the imagination, and I am looking forward to a fall filled with new stories, new experiences, kicking through the leaves in Central Park, going for long walks along the Hudson, watching the changing trees, eating pumpkin pie, catching snowflakes on my tongue. Too many of us lose the wonder we felt as a child when experiencing these things. Now that I am fully adult and have to live in the 'real world', I have decided that this fall will be my fall of childlike-awe. I am going to not take the little joys for granted, but revel in each and ever sensory, intellectual, and personal experience. I can't wait!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
God Vs. Science??
Loving both God and science, I've always been sad that there seems, amongst popular opinion at least, the idea that they oppose each other. God=faith, science=empirically proven facts. I've been of the opinion though that science reveals the glory of God, the creativity of His mind, and dovetails perfectly with what I read in the Bible. I look at the stars and I see that "The Heavens are telling the handiwork of the Lord". I look at the small veins in the leaves on the trees in Central Park and I see perfection of design, and marvel at photosynthesis, cellular growth, and the simplicity but breathtaking magnificence of the translation of sun and carbon dioxide into energy and oxygen. I watched a show about plate tectonics on National Geographic Channel and think of how perfectly God set things up to renew and regenerate. I study the human body, and see the overwhelming intricacies of what makes us who we are. I look around me, I close my eyes, and I feel the wind on my face. What is wind? What is flame? What are these things really??? So simple, such a part of everyday existence, but really, when I sit down and think about it, how incredibly mind-blowing these things are. I feel like a small child, tugging on her Dad's shirt, saying, "But WHY Dad? Why is this thing like this, and that thing like that? How does it work?? Why are things the way they are??" I read about the theory of evolution, about carbon dating and geological eras. I read about creationism and the belief that the earth is only 6000 years old (a belief I don't personally adhere to, but I can understand how creationists might have derived that figure from Genesis).
I feel like there is the prevailing sense of God against Science, or Science against God. They cannot coexist, they cannot both be true. But I just don't see it. I just don't see how faith and science aren't just two different sides of the same coin. To me, science reveals God. God's Word reveals scientific fact. I'm obviously very passionate about this, but I'll let the following say what it is my heart about it. A dear friend sent me this email, and as I read it, I found myself thinking, "Yes. Yes this is exactly it." Thanks, Ash, for sending me this:
God vs. Science
A long story, but a great conclusion.
A science professor begins his school year with a lecture to the students, 'Let me explain the problem science has with religion' The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.
'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'
'Yes sir,' the student says.
'So you believe in God?'
'Absolutely.'
'Is God good?'
'Sure! God's good.'
'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'
'Yes.'
'Are you good or evil?'
'The Bible says I'm evil.'
The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible!' He considers for a moment.
'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'
'Yes sir, I would.'
'So you're good...!'
'I wouldn't say that.'
'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could.... Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'
The student does not answer, so the professor continues. 'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?'
The student remains silent.
'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.
'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'
'Er...yes,' the student says.
'Is Satan good?'
The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'
'Then where does Satan come from?'
The student falters. 'From God'
'That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'
'Yes.'
'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'
Again, the student has no answer. 'Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'
The student squirms on his feet. 'Yes'
'So who created them?'
The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them?' There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. 'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'
The student's voice betrays him and cracks. 'Yes, professor, I do.'
The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?'
'No sir, I've never seen Him.'
'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'
'No, sir, I have not.'
'Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'
'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'
'Yet you still believe in him?'
'Yes.'
'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?'
'Nothing,' the student replies, 'I only have my faith.'
'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'
The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own. 'Professor, is there such thing as heat?'
'Yes,' the professor replies, 'There's heat.'
'And is there such a thing as cold?'
'Yes, son, there's cold too.'
'No sir, there isn't.'
The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. 'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can reach up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees..'
'Everybody or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold; Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'
Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.
'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'
'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation, 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'
'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something.... You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word.'
'In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'
The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. 'So what point are you making, young man?'
'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'
The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. 'Flawed? Can you explain how?'
'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought.'
'It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.'
'Now tell me, professor, Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'
'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.'
'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'
The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.
'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'
The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.
'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.'
The student looks around the room. 'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter.
'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain; with all due respect, sir.'
'So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'
Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.
Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers, 'I guess you'll have to take them on faith.'
'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?'
Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil....'
To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God.. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'
The professor sat down.
I feel like there is the prevailing sense of God against Science, or Science against God. They cannot coexist, they cannot both be true. But I just don't see it. I just don't see how faith and science aren't just two different sides of the same coin. To me, science reveals God. God's Word reveals scientific fact. I'm obviously very passionate about this, but I'll let the following say what it is my heart about it. A dear friend sent me this email, and as I read it, I found myself thinking, "Yes. Yes this is exactly it." Thanks, Ash, for sending me this:
God vs. Science
A long story, but a great conclusion.
A science professor begins his school year with a lecture to the students, 'Let me explain the problem science has with religion' The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.
'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'
'Yes sir,' the student says.
'So you believe in God?'
'Absolutely.'
'Is God good?'
'Sure! God's good.'
'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'
'Yes.'
'Are you good or evil?'
'The Bible says I'm evil.'
The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible!' He considers for a moment.
'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'
'Yes sir, I would.'
'So you're good...!'
'I wouldn't say that.'
'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could.... Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'
The student does not answer, so the professor continues. 'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?'
The student remains silent.
'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.
'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'
'Er...yes,' the student says.
'Is Satan good?'
The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'
'Then where does Satan come from?'
The student falters. 'From God'
'That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'
'Yes.'
'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'
Again, the student has no answer. 'Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'
The student squirms on his feet. 'Yes'
'So who created them?'
The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them?' There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. 'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'
The student's voice betrays him and cracks. 'Yes, professor, I do.'
The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?'
'No sir, I've never seen Him.'
'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'
'No, sir, I have not.'
'Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'
'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'
'Yet you still believe in him?'
'Yes.'
'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?'
'Nothing,' the student replies, 'I only have my faith.'
'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'
The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own. 'Professor, is there such thing as heat?'
'Yes,' the professor replies, 'There's heat.'
'And is there such a thing as cold?'
'Yes, son, there's cold too.'
'No sir, there isn't.'
The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. 'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can reach up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees..'
'Everybody or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold; Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'
Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.
'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'
'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation, 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'
'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something.... You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word.'
'In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'
The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. 'So what point are you making, young man?'
'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'
The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. 'Flawed? Can you explain how?'
'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought.'
'It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.'
'Now tell me, professor, Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'
'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.'
'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'
The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.
'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'
The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.
'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.'
The student looks around the room. 'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter.
'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain; with all due respect, sir.'
'So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'
Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.
Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers, 'I guess you'll have to take them on faith.'
'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?'
Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil....'
To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God.. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'
The professor sat down.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I Made It
I took a deep breath, the wind gently brushing by my face. The seagulls were on the Jackie O reserve, just floating lazily by. There was a sparrow taking a bath in a puddle left by the rain storm; he looked so happy to just be a sparrow and be taking a bath. As I stopped running to take this all in, I realized, for the first time in I don't know how long, that I was free. I didn't have to hurry home to study for a test or write a paper; I didn't have to have the constant stress of study study study on me. This is a path that I have chosen, and I wouldn't have done anything else. But this has been a very hard, yet very very good, last year and a half. I am a nurse now; I can hardly believe it. I just finished my first summer of NP classes and will graduate Feb. 2011. I am ready to have the time, emotionally, mentally, physically, to call back friends that I haven't talked to in ages. I am ready to take a book and spend an afternoon reading in the shade of a big oak tree in Central Park. I am ready to work on an oil painting, learn the cello again, go dancing, volunteer at my church, and just be. I am ready to not have a headache every day. I am ready to maybe let my shoulders unclench, even if it is just a little. In all of this, in everything that has happened, the last few months have been the hardest. I feel as though I have become the worst version of myself, and I don't like that. I don't like feeling like I want to yell at someone just because they are walking slowly in front of me. I hate the fact that when I get as stressed, emotionally and mentally, as I have been these past few months, my swearing quotient goes up. That is just silly, and it is not me. I am ready to not be so emotionally labile and get a grip for goodness sakes! I am ready to not cry about something as insignificant as spilling a glass of water. I mean, honestly! This month will probably go fast, as everything does, but I am praying that for me and my schoolmates, who desperately need this reprieve, that it stretches on interminably, to the point that we start wanting something to do again.
I am so ready to get back to being me, and not feeling like an alien walking around in my body. This has been a difficult summer, but when I think of all we've accomplished, I am in awe. God has been faithful, and has given me the grace and strength I've needed for each trial that has come my way, and I am so incredibly incredibly thankful. Now, it is time to relax. To regenerate. To remember who I am and what I stand for and to be built back up, from the inside out. It doesn't seem real yet; the prospect of some test hangs over my head and I have to keep reminding myself that I don't need to study today, or tomorrow, or the next day. I can step outside, take in the beauty of the sun and the clouds, and be in awe, yet again, of God's handiwork. I can just be. And for the time being, that sounds like bliss to me.
I am so ready to get back to being me, and not feeling like an alien walking around in my body. This has been a difficult summer, but when I think of all we've accomplished, I am in awe. God has been faithful, and has given me the grace and strength I've needed for each trial that has come my way, and I am so incredibly incredibly thankful. Now, it is time to relax. To regenerate. To remember who I am and what I stand for and to be built back up, from the inside out. It doesn't seem real yet; the prospect of some test hangs over my head and I have to keep reminding myself that I don't need to study today, or tomorrow, or the next day. I can step outside, take in the beauty of the sun and the clouds, and be in awe, yet again, of God's handiwork. I can just be. And for the time being, that sounds like bliss to me.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Hands
Got this from a friend:
"Hands" by Dr. Ray Pritchard
“Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he breathed his last” (Luke 23:46).
Luke is the only writer to record the final words of the Son of God. Every word tells us something important:
Father—This was Jesus’ favorite title for God. It spoke of the intimate family relationship that had existed from all eternity. His first word from the cross had been, ”Father, forgive them.” His last word was, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” But in between he had cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He called him, “My God” and not “Father” because in that agonizing moment, the Father turned his back on the Son as Jesus bore the sin of the world. God forsaken by God! But no longer. Jesus dies with the knowledge that the price has been fully paid, the cup emptied, the burden borne, estrangement ended, the battle won, the struggle over. Whatever happened in those three mysterious hours of darkness is now in the past. Jesus yields his life to the One he called “Father.”
Into your hands—Oh, the touch of a father’s hands. What son does not long for his father to reach out and embrace him? There is something wonderful about this expression. It speaks of safety—"I am safe in my father’s hands”—and of greeting—"Welcome home, Son”—and of love—"Dad, it’s so good to see you again”—and of approval—"I’m so proud of you, Son.”
For 15 hours Jesus has been in the hands of wicked men. With their hands, they beat him. With their hands, they slapped him. With their hands, they abused him. With their hands, they crowned him with thorns. With their hands, they ripped out his beard. With their hands, they smashed him black and blue. With their hands, they whipped his back until it was torn to bits. All that is behind him now. Wicked hands have done all they can do. Jesus now returns to his Father’s hands.
I commit—The word means to deposit something valuable in a safe place. It’s what you do when you take your will and your most valuable possessions and put them in a safe-deposit box at the bank.
My spirit—By this phrase, Jesus meant his very life, his personal existence. Now that his physical life was over, Jesus commits himself into his Father’s hands for safe keeping. “Father, I can no longer care for myself. I place myself in your good hands for safe-keeping.”
Matthew 27:50 tells us that at the moment of his death, Jesus “dismissed his spirit.” That is, he voluntarily yielded it up to the Father. His life was not taken from him against his will; when the time came, he gave up his life voluntarily.
The death of Christ is not the final act of a tragedy but the victorious ending of a mighty battle.
On this Good Friday, an apt name for a day that began in the darkness of the night and ended with the Son of God giving up his life for sinners, let us give thanks for Jesus’ death. Not just that he died but for his death itself. And may these words translated by James Alexander in 1830 from an old Latin poem attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux serve as a fitting benediction:
What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.
"Hands" by Dr. Ray Pritchard
“Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he breathed his last” (Luke 23:46).
Luke is the only writer to record the final words of the Son of God. Every word tells us something important:
Father—This was Jesus’ favorite title for God. It spoke of the intimate family relationship that had existed from all eternity. His first word from the cross had been, ”Father, forgive them.” His last word was, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” But in between he had cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He called him, “My God” and not “Father” because in that agonizing moment, the Father turned his back on the Son as Jesus bore the sin of the world. God forsaken by God! But no longer. Jesus dies with the knowledge that the price has been fully paid, the cup emptied, the burden borne, estrangement ended, the battle won, the struggle over. Whatever happened in those three mysterious hours of darkness is now in the past. Jesus yields his life to the One he called “Father.”
Into your hands—Oh, the touch of a father’s hands. What son does not long for his father to reach out and embrace him? There is something wonderful about this expression. It speaks of safety—"I am safe in my father’s hands”—and of greeting—"Welcome home, Son”—and of love—"Dad, it’s so good to see you again”—and of approval—"I’m so proud of you, Son.”
For 15 hours Jesus has been in the hands of wicked men. With their hands, they beat him. With their hands, they slapped him. With their hands, they abused him. With their hands, they crowned him with thorns. With their hands, they ripped out his beard. With their hands, they smashed him black and blue. With their hands, they whipped his back until it was torn to bits. All that is behind him now. Wicked hands have done all they can do. Jesus now returns to his Father’s hands.
I commit—The word means to deposit something valuable in a safe place. It’s what you do when you take your will and your most valuable possessions and put them in a safe-deposit box at the bank.
My spirit—By this phrase, Jesus meant his very life, his personal existence. Now that his physical life was over, Jesus commits himself into his Father’s hands for safe keeping. “Father, I can no longer care for myself. I place myself in your good hands for safe-keeping.”
Matthew 27:50 tells us that at the moment of his death, Jesus “dismissed his spirit.” That is, he voluntarily yielded it up to the Father. His life was not taken from him against his will; when the time came, he gave up his life voluntarily.
The death of Christ is not the final act of a tragedy but the victorious ending of a mighty battle.
On this Good Friday, an apt name for a day that began in the darkness of the night and ended with the Son of God giving up his life for sinners, let us give thanks for Jesus’ death. Not just that he died but for his death itself. And may these words translated by James Alexander in 1830 from an old Latin poem attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux serve as a fitting benediction:
What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)