Humbled By Humility

"...before honour is humility." - Pr. 15:33b, NKJV

   I've just settled down for the evening with my ESV study Bible and some devotional books as I try to keep tracking and immersing myself in the events of Holy Week. Yesterday's readings in the Gospels gave me much to contemplate regarding God's meticulous planning and sovereignty over the events of history, as I thought about the gathering of actors and the setting of the stage for the events leading up to Christ's passion [1]. 

   According to the timeline of the events that have been put together of Christ's final week [2], people in Jerusalem (including Jesus' disciples) have been busy during the day making preparations for the Passover, which begins at sunset. The temple has been extremely busy during the day as lamb after lamb has been sacrificed - some historical estimates place the number around a quarter of a million animals sacrificed for Passover during Christ's time. The disciples have roasted the lamb, and prepared various side dishes for the meal (including bread). They have also prepared the room for celebrating this important meal in their yearly calendar. All Israel is gathering to remember the night of God's deliverance of their ancestors from the land of Egypt thousands of years ago, with the slaying of Egypt's firstborn and his "passing over" of their houses that had been marked and sprinkled with the blood of slain lambs.

Bread. Wine. Body. Blood.

   It is now evening, and Christ has begun the Passover meal with His disciples. During the meal, He has taken bread, broken it and instituted the future memorial of His body, with the words, "This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." Passing the cup of wine, He has pronounced its significance: "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood" [3]. It is also during the meal that He has identified Judas as his betrayer, though none of the others understand. The Passover meal is almost over; the food is almost over, the dishes almost empty. And now, the incarnate Word of God, in whom, through whom and for whom all things exist, once again shows Himself to be a Man like no other:

"Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside His outer garments and, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around His waist...When He had washed their feet and put on His outer garments and resumed His place, He said to them, 'Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right for so I am . If then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also out to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly I say to you, a servant is not greater than His master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent Him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them." - John 13:3-5, 12-17, ESV

   I can only imagine the shock on the disciples' faces; washing people's feet was considered to be a task reserved for non-Jewish slaves. In that time and culture where people walked long distances on dusty roads What a Man, and yet God! What a Servant, and yet the King of kings! There is no one else like the Lord of glory. Human imagination cannot concoct such a God, who works miracles beyond comprehension, and then stoops to wash the dirty feet of His followers! This righteous and holy God, who walked the dusty roads of Palestine for thirty three years, assumed the posture of a servant and washed the dust that He Himself had created off the feet of His creation. In the gesture of utmost love for His enemies, He even washed the feet of the one who had already agreed to betray Him.

   Attempting to follow in Christ's footsteps, I once tenderly washed someone's feet and dried them with a towel, in an act of love and servanthood. It was an intensely humbling lesson and experience; it made me feel very small and insignificant, a nobody washing the feet of a somebody. I understood through that one small act the attitude and posture that my heart should adopt as a follow and servant of my Lord and Master, and have tried to keep that in mind ever since. The Apostle Paul, thinking about the servant heart and mind of Christ, wrote the following words to the Philippian church:

"Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others. Let this mind be in your which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a slave, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross." - Philippians 2:3-8, NKJV

   That's the God my heart follows and obeys; Christ is the Man who leads from the front by example, not from a safe place at the rear. That's the kind of man I want to be, because I'm no greater than my Master. He humbled himself to obedience and death; so must I. I'm going to think about this as I keep pace with the events of the Passion tonight. Jesus and His disciples have left for the Garden of Gethsemane. The pace of the story is ramping up to its inevitable conclusion in another fifteen hours. Time for me to follow them. I have to run. See you in the next post. Until then, here's a great music video featuring the scenes of The Last Supper enacted in "The Passion of The Christ", featuring the song "Remembrance" by Matt Maher:

- The Wisdom Seeker

REFERENCES:
============
[1] The Approaching Cross
[2] "Harmony of The Events of Holy Week", ESV Study Bible, pg. 1866
[3] Luke 22:19-20, ESV

In Loving Memory of Tolkien (Nov. 2010 - Sept. 2011)

Tolkien, caught in a moment of surprise :)

   You don't appreciate what you have until it's gone. So goes the popular platitude of social wisdom, though I don't know who coined that saying. But what if you appreciate what you have, and it's still gone? That's one of the thoughts that occupies my mind right now, a few hours after discovering that Tolkien, my pet hamster, had passed away sometime between yesterday night and today morning.

    I'm not one of those people who treats their pet as if it were human. I have never lavished extraordinary amounts of affection on any of the pets I've had before, though they've been few and far between. But it still shook me, nonetheless, when I checked on her after 11:30 AM and found her lying on her side in a corner of her cage, with her eyes closed. That was the first sign that something was wrong; Tolkien had always curled up into a ball while sitting, head tucked between her feet. I clicked my tongue in the pattern that she had always recognized and instantly responded to. She didn't move. I waited a few more seconds. Nothing. I think that's when it began to register - Tolkien was gone. Even as I type all this out, I find it interesting how I've used the word 'gone'; I don't wan't to write 'dead'. It feels uncomfortable.

    It's amazing how the human mind goes into default 'emergency response' mode, when caught off-guard by unexpected events that tend to deliver shocks, whether large or small. Without really waiting to digest what had happened, I found myself thinking of how to respond and what to do next. I would have to bury her immediately; I could not leave her lying in her cage, and did not have anywhere to temporarily store her body. I needed to figure out where to bury her - along a trail in the woods nearby, perhaps? The cage and all her stuff would have to be cleaned, disinfected and put away. I would have to thoroughly clean the area of my room where her cage had been placed. And on, and on. Within minutes, I found myself in the bathroom, carefully trying to take the top of her cage off without disturbing her body. It felt strange to look down on her motionless little body, expecting her to raise her head and look around with eyes half-shut, like she usually does when awakened from sleep.

    I suddenly found myself at a loss for how to handle her. I had always picked her up with my bare hands, but this wasn't "her". I didn't know how to describe what I was actually trying to pick up. "She" wasn't in there anymore, that was for certain; "It" was now a dead body. I don't know if the sight of death tends to produce those reactions in people when looking at loved ones that have passed away - confusion, fear, uncertainty and a whole host of other strange feelings. I finally ended up pulling on a pair of blue rubber gloves that I used when cleaning the bathroom. Even with those on, it felt strange to touch her body. It was hard and stiff, unlike the small soft pillow it had usually felt like. Putting her body into a plastic bag with some of her bedding, I put that along with my camera into my backpack and headed out to the woods to bury her.

    It was overcast and windy outside, with intermittent drops of rain beginning to fall. I made my way a few streets away to the trail that began into the woods, and to a spot that I had in mind. I temporarily lost my balance while trying to make my way along the rocks that formed a path across a shallow stream, and stepped into it. My shoes, socks and the bottom of my jeans got soaked instantly in cold water. Finding the secluded spot that I had in mind, I dug a grave among the roots of a tree, placed Tolkien's body and bedding into it and covered it up. While standing over the grave for a few minutes in silence, a text message arrived from Jamie, with a prayer thanking God for the blessing and joy that Tolkien had been in my life. The words 'Amen' came to my lips in thankful response. As the occasional raindrops began to transition into a slow drizzle, I covered the grave with leaves and made my way back home.

Tolkien's Burial Place

    Along the way back, the words of Psalm 104 came to me, which speaks about the blessing and provision of God for all His creatures:

        "Oh Lord, how manifold are your works!
        In wisdom have you made them all;
        the earth is full of your creatures.

        These all look to you,
        to give them their food in due season.
        When you give it to them, they gather it up;
        when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.
        When you hide your face, they are dismayed;
        when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust.
        When you send forth your Spirit, they are created,
        and you renew the face of the ground.

        May the glory of the Lord endure forever;
        may the Lord rejoice in his works,
        who looks on the earth and it trembles,
        who touches the mountains and they smoke!
        I will sing to the Lord as long as I love;
        I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.
        May my meditation be pleasing to Him,
        for I rejoice in the Lord."

- Ps. 104:24 - 24

    It is good at times like this to turn one's thoughts to God, even with something that may seem as miniscule in the large scheme of things as the passing of a pet. It is true that I will not wake up in the mornings to see her curled up in her cage, climbing the walls of her cage in the evenings, pausing to sniff the air in my direction when I pick her up and she catches my scent and all the other little things that made her so lovable. "It's just a hamster", some might say, but as much as Tolkien's passing is beginning to sink in and the implications of her absence beginning to be felt, it cannot just stop at that. Even in this, there is the glory of God manifest. Tolkien came into being, to life because God willed her to live, because He sent forth His Spirit and created her. Her little heart beat and she lived because He sustained her life by the power of the same Spirit, and provided food for her. And she died because He decided that the time had come to take away her breath, and for her to return to the dust.

    God blessed my life through Tolkien. I loved her from the moment I saw her at the Petcetera store where I bought her, till the time I put the last bits of dirt over her grave. She comforted me during my times of loneliness, when I was looking unsucessfuly after graduation for work last year. I came home from a disappointing interview that I had had high hopes for, looking forward to seeing her at home. I wrote about this in a poem remembering the occasion, titled "Interview Blues". It was raining hard before, and I worried about her grave getting soaked. But it's sunny now. Thank you for being part of my life, Tolkien. God gave you, and God took you away. Blessed be His name.

- The Wisdom Seeker

Precious Life, Precious Death

"Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of His saints." (Ps. 116:15 , ESV)

    The few weeks since my last post have been eventful with a number of 'firsts' - I bought car insurance for my first car for the first time, drove it for the first time with my first full tank of gas, failed my first driving test in Canada, ordered flowers for one special woman for the first time and gave a rose to another (also the first time), had my laptop battery fail after two-and-a-half years of operation. But in the midst of all that, I have still been contemplating the train of thought that I began in 'One Life Blossoms, Another Departs'. I guess this is becoming a year where God is having me contemplate life, death, mortality, meaning and teaching me important lessons through all of it.

    Recollecting the above verse in the process of thinking, I went back to a sermon that I had listened to on the morning of the memorial service for Jamie's grandmother. Delivered at Willingdon in 2004 by John Neufeld, it was titled 'The Precious Event of A Believer's Death' and covered the death of Abraham's wife Sarah in Genesis 23, and his mourning for her. It was riveting right from the beginning, with these sentences among those of its opening paragraph:

"Whenever I do a marriage ceremony I always make sure the married couple understands the words 'until death do us part'. See, I want every married couple here to understand that if Jesus delays His coming, one of you will go on ahead of the other, and the other will be left behind. That is the way of this world...What should we do when a loved one dies?...Death is the great certainty of life."

    "Do you know, that the day of your death is a very precious day to God?" Pastor John's question stopped me in my tracks. I had never thought of it like that before. He continued: "The hour of your dying is precious to the Lord, because in that hour He will call you home for that which you have been created. The great inheritance for which God made you, is not on this earth, it's in glory, that great inheritance will be yours in the final day."

    At this point I have to stop and deal with the question that grows ever louder in my mind:

Why is it so important that the day of my passing matters to someone?

    Last year, during the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics, I had attended an art exhibition showcasing representative BC art at the Vancouver Art Gallery. A parallel exhibition occurring there at the same time used the human body as its subject. Among the displays were ones that used a complete skeleton, skulls of various sizes and x-ray images of the body's skeletal structure. I remember thinking about my own body as I looked at those exhibits, reflecting on how  one day it too would be placed in the ground, and reduced to what I saw in front of me.

    The thought that one's own family and friends will miss and think about us is sometimes of small consolation, for we are ever cognizant that they too will inevitably go down the same road we ourselves must take. As we contemplate mortality in such moments, there is an aching want that steals up upon the human heart, an insatiable plea that our life would be valued and the memory of our days would be known and preserved, in some manner that is not hamstrung by forgetfulness, inaccuracy, imprecision, confusion, corruption all the other failings of memory that plague the human cerebral cortex.

    We want someone to never forget us, in whose memory our image is indelibly and permanently etched. We long to be seen even after we have gone.

   

    In the light of this cry of the soul, I am reminded of the following unshakable promises of the Word of God, reflecting on the overarching presence of the self-existent, everlasting God who stands unfettered by age, and death and decay:

    "Nevertheless, I am continually with you;

      you hold my right hand.

    You guide me with your counsel,

      and afterward you will receive me to glory.

    Whom have I in heaven but you?

      And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.

    My flesh and my heart may fail,

      but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

- Psalm 73:23-26, ESV

   

    It is inexpressable comfort to know that this great God calls Himself my Father, my friend, my Saviour; that He walks with me on my short sojourn through this life, sighing with me through the times when it seems wearisome to put one foot in front of the other, laughing at the moments of joy and wonder; that He does it all knowing that He will be waiting with open arms to welcome me home at the end of the sprint through the valley called Death, and that He has planned not only every day of my life with Him here, but also of every day of the eternity that we will spend together. But most of all there is security in knowing that in the same manner He said of His people, the memory of all that I am, of all my being, my image and all my days are permanently etched into His hands, His being:

    "Can a woman forget her nursing child,

      that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?

    Even these may forget,

      yet I will not forget you.

    Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;

      your walls are continaully before me."

- Isaiah 49:15-17, ESV

    God remembers the day of my passing long after I have faded from this world, for it is the day He welcomes me home. My life, my essence, my being is preserved even on the other side of death because of the sheer force of His will and power. See you in the next post after I've done some processing on what I've just written. And if you have lost hope, please take some of mine.

- The Wisdom Seeker