There was a room and inside it was a painting. It was more beautiful than any other painting and had many things in it. Among them, there was a sandy beach, forrest, sky, and an ocean. Four people were brought into the room and were sat down in front of the painting. They were each given a pencil and a paper and were asked to write down the five most important words about the painting.
Person A wrote the words:
1. Sandy
2. Tan
3. Beach
4. Warm
5. Peaceful
Person B wrote the words:
1. Green
2. Lush
3. Tropical
4. Alive
5. Forest
Person C wrote the words:
1. Infinite
2. Clouds
3. Big
4. Blue
5. Sky
Person D wrote the words:
1. Vast
2. Deep
3. Sea
4. Wet
5. Salty
When they were done writing their words, they all shared with each other what they had written. As person A read her list, the others began to scoff at her because they felt she was wrong. The same thing happened as each read their own list to the group. None of the lists had the same words and so each of the people felt as if all the others were wrong. Angry, and stuffed with pride, they all left the room and the painting behind, and went to ineffectively tell people about the painting, using only the words they had written themselves.
Person A had five words.
Person B had five words.
Person C had five words.
Person D had five words.
Just think, together they'd have twenty words- and a room with a painting.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Salt Water.
I freaking hate salt water.
It tastes nasty, burns my eyes, burns in my cuts and makes my skin itchy. It is that bad kind of itchy that scratching doesn't help.
I love fresh water.
It tastes good, agrees with my eyes, leaves my cuts alone, and doesn't make my skin itchy.(Unless, of course, it is the water from my shower in Austin, which dries my skin out like jerky.)
I have two glasses of water, one salt, and the other fresh. If I lift the fresh water and pour a small amount of it into the salt water glass, the salt water is still salt water. But if I pour a small amount of the salt water into the fresh water, I now have two glasses of salt water. Concentration of salt is irrelevant, for there is salt in both and that is final.
James says that our mouths flow both blessing and cursing; fresh and salt water. I have always assumed that the curses were salt water because they burn and itch, and the blessings were fresh water because they are pure. I want to challenge this notion. If we read the bible through the lense of the sermon of the mount, salt will trigger a flag. We are the salt of the earth.
How can we be the salt of the earth and not produce water with salt in it?
Salt burns because it cleans. When it gets in a cut, it cleanses. When it gets in your eyes, it sucks. But I do know that my eyes are evil and disobedient, so I'd hope that they would react to cleansing. Everyone who has used Listerine knows that it only works if it hurts!
The words we speak are the overflow of our heart. So if we ever speak truth then there is salt water coming up, even if it is extremely diluted by the fresh water. The cool thing about the salt is that by its very nature, it is what defines the solution around it. If I have one tablespoon of salt in my friend's swimming pool, it is technically salt water.
Currently, my pool is mostly fresh water, with a small spoon of salt in it. While it is mostly curses, blessing is present and dominant. Imagine what life would be found if I was pumping water with a higher concentration of salt and a smaller concentration of suck. When the water in my heart is drank, the small amount of salt I gave is mixed with the water in the listener's heart.
This is where it gets serious. This means that speech is not the issue. This means that the heart is the issue. My friend, Wes, told me that there is no use in trying to tame the tongue. We should instead just pursue the purity of the heart so our tongue becomes a life bringing tool. In other words, don't arrest the drug dealers, burn the field of opium and plant a field of potatoes.(Everyone loves potatoes, except Travis Chapman... Sorry, man.)
Pray for the purity of your heart. Spend more time on this spiritual matter and less time on the social treadmill of taming the tongue. James and Wes agree on the fact that the tongue can't be tamed. Plus, why limit something that brings blessing?
It is my prayer that this water has enough salt to burn our wounds. Please excuse the weak, diluted, solution that it is. I assure you, any salt is from the Lord and is much more definite than the fresh water is has graciously mixed with. My goal is to be like the dead sea; so thick with salt that people can walk on it.
It tastes nasty, burns my eyes, burns in my cuts and makes my skin itchy. It is that bad kind of itchy that scratching doesn't help.
I love fresh water.
It tastes good, agrees with my eyes, leaves my cuts alone, and doesn't make my skin itchy.(Unless, of course, it is the water from my shower in Austin, which dries my skin out like jerky.)
I have two glasses of water, one salt, and the other fresh. If I lift the fresh water and pour a small amount of it into the salt water glass, the salt water is still salt water. But if I pour a small amount of the salt water into the fresh water, I now have two glasses of salt water. Concentration of salt is irrelevant, for there is salt in both and that is final.
James says that our mouths flow both blessing and cursing; fresh and salt water. I have always assumed that the curses were salt water because they burn and itch, and the blessings were fresh water because they are pure. I want to challenge this notion. If we read the bible through the lense of the sermon of the mount, salt will trigger a flag. We are the salt of the earth.
How can we be the salt of the earth and not produce water with salt in it?
Salt burns because it cleans. When it gets in a cut, it cleanses. When it gets in your eyes, it sucks. But I do know that my eyes are evil and disobedient, so I'd hope that they would react to cleansing. Everyone who has used Listerine knows that it only works if it hurts!
The words we speak are the overflow of our heart. So if we ever speak truth then there is salt water coming up, even if it is extremely diluted by the fresh water. The cool thing about the salt is that by its very nature, it is what defines the solution around it. If I have one tablespoon of salt in my friend's swimming pool, it is technically salt water.
Currently, my pool is mostly fresh water, with a small spoon of salt in it. While it is mostly curses, blessing is present and dominant. Imagine what life would be found if I was pumping water with a higher concentration of salt and a smaller concentration of suck. When the water in my heart is drank, the small amount of salt I gave is mixed with the water in the listener's heart.
This is where it gets serious. This means that speech is not the issue. This means that the heart is the issue. My friend, Wes, told me that there is no use in trying to tame the tongue. We should instead just pursue the purity of the heart so our tongue becomes a life bringing tool. In other words, don't arrest the drug dealers, burn the field of opium and plant a field of potatoes.(Everyone loves potatoes, except Travis Chapman... Sorry, man.)
Pray for the purity of your heart. Spend more time on this spiritual matter and less time on the social treadmill of taming the tongue. James and Wes agree on the fact that the tongue can't be tamed. Plus, why limit something that brings blessing?
It is my prayer that this water has enough salt to burn our wounds. Please excuse the weak, diluted, solution that it is. I assure you, any salt is from the Lord and is much more definite than the fresh water is has graciously mixed with. My goal is to be like the dead sea; so thick with salt that people can walk on it.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Feast
I just got back from taking lunch to my friend. He has been begging me to bring him whataburger for the last few weeks and today I finally did it. It was really strange, but fun, to step back into a middle school cafeteria. It was just the way I left it- Full of children. As I made my way in, I immediately noticed the divisions. There were perfectly organized long tables and people were only sitting with people that looked like themselves. I finally found my friend, spotting his teeth before anything else.(What a smile that kid's got!) As I walked to his table, every eyeball in the room moved with me. People whispered and some laughed. I had three kids ask me if I was Jesus because I have long hair, leather sandals, a smile, and compared to their clothes, was wearing rags. I sat down and my friend was so excited he couldn't breath right. He immediately introduced me to the guys around him, who apparently knew more about me than I do, and we began to eat. A few kids from the neighborhood, whom I know, but rarely see, came up to me and talked as if we were best friends. They reminisced on the christmas gifts I had given them and talked about how fun football was that one time. They were clearly just coming to make it clear to everyone in the room that we had met before. The secret handshakes I had to take part in made it clear that they just needed some sort of outward sign that we were friends or something.
It was weird.
They all seemed to know me so well that the rest of the cafeteria thought they were saints.
But I don't know them. They never hang out with me.
We had plenty of food and I was able to share it with the guys sitting around us. My table had a blast and they all want me to come back. I think I will. I will bring a burger to whoever asks me for one.
After eating, we had about fifteen minutes to sit around. Kids immediately started telling me about each kid at each other table. They gossiped about how the other kids did things or how bad they smelled, or about the fact that they tuck their shirt into their whitie tighties. The girls would make orgasm noises to make the guys giggle. That one kid mixed all his food together and ate it so I would look at him. They talked to me about how much of a freak the girl at the end of the table was. It was disgusting. What was bad wasn't the words or actions, but the lack of worth in them. It wasn't that these kids were braking moral rules, but that they had no respect for each other or for themselves. It was in this lack of respect that they resorted to abusive rule breaking. These kids were tearing each other down for things that clearly didn't matter to me at all! These kids were splitting themselves apart for things that don't matter at all!
There were tons of other things that went on, each holding rich metaphorical value, but I think this breif description should be sufficient.
Do you know Christ, or do you play football with him and give him credit for the gifts he gave you?
Do you split yourselves apart over things that don't even matter a little bit?
Do you have a secret handshake with Christ, or do you let him hold you close?
Are you asking him to show up with food?
It was weird.
They all seemed to know me so well that the rest of the cafeteria thought they were saints.
But I don't know them. They never hang out with me.
We had plenty of food and I was able to share it with the guys sitting around us. My table had a blast and they all want me to come back. I think I will. I will bring a burger to whoever asks me for one.
After eating, we had about fifteen minutes to sit around. Kids immediately started telling me about each kid at each other table. They gossiped about how the other kids did things or how bad they smelled, or about the fact that they tuck their shirt into their whitie tighties. The girls would make orgasm noises to make the guys giggle. That one kid mixed all his food together and ate it so I would look at him. They talked to me about how much of a freak the girl at the end of the table was. It was disgusting. What was bad wasn't the words or actions, but the lack of worth in them. It wasn't that these kids were braking moral rules, but that they had no respect for each other or for themselves. It was in this lack of respect that they resorted to abusive rule breaking. These kids were tearing each other down for things that clearly didn't matter to me at all! These kids were splitting themselves apart for things that don't matter at all!
There were tons of other things that went on, each holding rich metaphorical value, but I think this breif description should be sufficient.
Do you know Christ, or do you play football with him and give him credit for the gifts he gave you?
Do you split yourselves apart over things that don't even matter a little bit?
Do you have a secret handshake with Christ, or do you let him hold you close?
Are you asking him to show up with food?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)