Laughter

As I stared down at the child cradled in Sarah's arms, something deep within me stirred. For so long, fear had made its home beneath the soil of my heart. Fear that I had left my home in vain. Fear that I would fail to provide my wife with the one thing she most desired. Fear that I had misinterpreted God's promise. Fear that I had sinned too greatly and lost the Lord's favor.

I watched as my wife wiped a gray tendril of hair from her glistening forehead. My insides quaked. Something was threatening to unearth my fears. It bubbled in my belly, shook my chest, and tickled my throat until it erupted out of my mouth. There was a cavern deeper than my fears that I had not known existed, and out of it, sprung laughter.

Sarah turned and held out the child toward me. "Do not be afraid, Abram." The words came to me as from some distant dream. "I am your shield, your very great reward."

I extended my arms to receive the child and caught a glimpse of my own wrinkly hands. With these hands, I had awoken Sarah from her sleep. I took her hand, so small in my own, opened the tent flap, and led her into the night. The moonlight sparkled on her face. Such beauty!

"Look up, Sarah. See those stars? Try to count them."

She giggled, "Oh Abram, that's impossible!"

"Maybe, but God says that our family will one day be like those stars."

She placed a hand over her barren womb and tears filled her eyes, "Oh Abram, what if it was true?"

We spent the rest of the night lying on our backs and naming the stars.

Time passed. My beard turned white, Sarah's shoulders began to hunch, and hope fled. These were the days of desperation and despair. My servant, Hagar bore a child, but he was not the promised one. Sarah seethed in jealous anger. We sent Hagar and the child away and continued to wait. My hands had been wrung, clenched, and shaken at the heavens. How long, O Lord!

Now, these hands that had been empty for so long held a baby. I pulled my son close and his eyes met my own. They were his mother's, sparkling jewels. He reached up, grabbed my beard, and gave it a royal tug. "Yow!" Sarah howled with laughter.

It was a laugh very different from a year ago, when three visitors came. We offered them food and I dined with them outside the tent. In between bites, one of them spoke, "Next year at this time I will return, and your wife Sarah will have a son." As soon as the words left his mouth, there was the sound of laughter from inside the tent. Sarah had been listening and the laughter snuck out of her before she had time to muffle it.

"Why did Sarah laugh?" the visitor asked, motioning toward the tent.

Sarah poked her head out, "I didn't laugh."

A smile spread across the visitor's face. He reached up and turned Sarah towards him. "Yes, you did laugh." He let out a little chuckle of his own saying, "Is anything too hard for the Lord?"

I returned the child to his mother. "I've thought of the perfect name for our son. Let's call him Laughter, for surely he will bring laughter to the whole world."

A Promise

Disobedience, a curse, and expulsion. Dastardly deeds draped in darkness. Wickedness, wrath, and judgment. Clouds covered the sun and rain poured down. A cleansing. Then...Light, multi-colored light; a rainbow and a promise.

"Never again will I flood the world in the down pouring of my wrath. The rainbow will stand between you and me. It's an umbrella, a sign of this promise. I will provide shelter."

Yes, God would provide. Through the line of Noah's son, Shem, God was going to build a family. This family would come from the childless one ironically named, "father."

"Abram, leave everything you know, your country, your people, and your father's house, and walk with me into the unknown. I will give you what you lost in Eden, land. You will no longer be defined by the curse in the Garden, but by a blessing." As in Adam, all were cursed, so in your seed all will be blessed."

Letting go of all he could hold, Abram clung to the promise.

By faith, Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going (Hebrews 11:8).

A New Beginning

Wickedness increased and the earth groaned.

All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs (Romans 8:22 The Message).

Sin reigned and the people groaned.

But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy (Romans 8:23-25 The Message).

Then came one whose name means “comfort.” Looking down at the baby boy in his arms, Lamech said, “He will comfort us in the labor and painful toil of our hands caused by the ground the Lord has cursed,” and named the boy, Noah.

The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain. So the Lord said, “I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth – men and animals, and creatures that move along the ground, and birds of the air – for I am grieved that I have made them.” But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord (Genesis 6:6-8).

God told Noah, “Build an ark. Gather your wife, your 3 sons, and your sons’ wives and enter the ark. Bring along two of all the unclean animals, a male and a female, and seven of all the clean animals that they may live. I am going to send a torrential downpour to destroy and cleanse the earth. But inside the ark, you will be saved from the flood of God’s wrath.”

By faith Noah, when warned about things not yet seen, in holy fear built an ark to save his family (Hebrews 11:7).

Noah and his family entered the ark and the Lord shut them in. It was dark and quiet as even the animals waited in silence. Then, a strong gust of wind blew against the boat, there was a pattering on the roof, and it started to rain. All the springs of the great deep burst forth, and the floodgates of the heavens were opened (Genesis 7:11). The ark creaked and began to lift, swaying from side to side. The ark rose as water immersed the flowers, trees, hills, and mountains.

Every living thing outside the ark died; men and animals, crawly things and birds, everything was wiped out. Everything that is, except…Noah, his family, and the animals inside the ark.

Finally, after 40 days and 40 nights, the rains stopped. The storm ended and left with it a deafening silence. For 5 months, the waters continued to flood the earth. The Noah clan was adrift at sea and floating on a water grave.

But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark (Genesis 8:1).

As God had blown into the corpse of Adam the breath of life, God sent a gust of wind over the whole earth. The waters fled at His breath, scampering back into the cracks and crevices from which they had sprung. The ark came to rest on the mountains of Ararat. Noah called for a raven and a dove. He opened the window and released the birds, waiting for some sign that the waters had receded. Nothing.

In 7 days, Noah sent out the dove again. This time when the dove returned, it was carrying in its beak a freshly plucked olive leaf. Life! Peace!

Noah took off the roof of the ark, and rays of sunlight shot down on his head. As Noah adjusted his eyes, he looked out. The earth shimmered. And, oh, how green it was!

“When the storm leaves, there’s a silence that says you don’t have to fear anymore. The trees are greener, the sky’s an ocean. The world is washed and starting over.” ("Everything Sad is Coming Untrue, Part 2" by Jason Gray)

Paradise Lost

But with the snap of the forbidden fruit, everything changed. A cloud hovered over the sun shrouding the world in darkness. A frigid wind shot through the garden and entered my heart. I shivered. I was cold, naked, and ashamed. Grabbing some fig leaves, I frantically tried to sew together some clothes for my husband and me. I needed covering.

Shadows to my right, a scuffle, and the deafening cry of a bleating lamb. Then, footsteps. My heart was pounding. I found a tree and dove behind it. Cowering there, I heard the footsteps grow ever closer. Oh God, save me, I breathed.

The footsteps stopped. A familiar voice called out, "Where are you?"

Dare I answer? What if He found out what I had done?

It was quiet for a moment, and then my husband spoke, "I...I heard you and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."

"Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?"

Adam grabbed my arm, pulled me out from my hiding place, and shoved me forward. "This woman, she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it."

I stared hard at the ground but could feel those eyes of sparkling jewels shift to me. I was certain I had met my end.

"What is this you have done?"

I could not look up. What would anger look like on such a face? Would a scowl cross that holy countenance? If the world was made with a word, what kind of destruction could a shout bring? And who could blame Him? It's what I deserved. He gave generously, and I took from him the one thing that was not mine to have. I broke the only commandment he spoke.

"You must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die."

I was heavy with guilt and had a sudden urge to beat my fist against my forehead. A lump grew and lingered in my throat. How could I have been so foolish?!

Then I remembered the serpent and his slippery words. "Did God really say?...You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."

My anger transferred to the slimy snake. He had made it sound so convincing. Greatness... God was holding me back...God was keeping something from me. But now I see that serpent for what he really is, the father of lies.

My face contorted as I fought to beat down the lump that swelled in my throat. My eyes burned until tears could no longer be contained. Best to look up now and meet my ruin rather than prolong it.

"The serpent deceived me, and I ate."

I looked up and what I saw sent a new pain into my chest. But this pain did not destroy me. No, it was healing me. My Maker's cheeks were just as smitten with tears as my own, his hands were stained red, and adorning his shoulder was the skin of a lamb.

The Lord turned to the serpent who sat with a satisfied smile and spoke, "Cursed are you. You will crawl on your belly and eat dust. You have set yourself up as a war maker and you will continue to make war against the woman and her children. You will nip, bite, and scratch at her heels." The Lord glanced in my direction, and I saw a twinkle of hope spark in his eyes." But He will crush your head."

Then God turned to face my husband and me. He told us the new order of things, that life could now only come on the heels of great pain. "The ground," God said, "will poke, cut, tear, scratch, and gnaw, but by the sweat of Adam's brow and through much toil, life will spring up yet again." And to me he said, "As Adam will labor to bring forth life from the earth, you will likewise labor to bring forth life from your womb." With these words, God slung the sheep skin off his shoulder and laid it before us. "Put this on. It will cover you."

When we were clothed, God led us out of the garden. As we left, I turned back for one last view of my home and saw cherubim brandishing swords and barring the way to the tree of life.

There has not been a day gone by when I haven't longed to go back. I wake up from dreams I can't remember with a distinct feeling of homesickness in my heart. I ache for the day when He will come and crush the head of the serpent of lies, make clear the way to the tree of life, and carry me home.

Let there be light

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1).

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God (John 1:1).

Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters (Genesis 1:2).

Darkness. Emptiness. Nothingness. Until...

And God said, "Let there be light" (Genesis 1:3).

With a word, light spilled from the river of God's mouth and drenched the darkness. Into the emptiness God's voice rang, and a sphere answered in appearance. God gave the water globe an atmosphere and puffed clouds into the sky. Daisies, daffodils, and day lilies popped up and peppered the countryside. Great sycamores and mighty oaks grew and stretched their branches upward straining toward the source of light. God took a pinch of his radiance and stuffed it into the sun. The water creatures splashed in the light of God's glory, the birds soared beneath its wings, and the land creatures danced in its rays. Night fell, but not even darkness could drive out the light. The moon reflected the sun's glory; the stars pierced the night sky.

All things were created by him and for him (Colossians 1:16).

Then God bent down. He gathered a clump of dirt and fashioned a man. The breath of God was the kiss of life, and the man inhaled. His eyes opened, and he looked full into the face of his Creator.

Out of man, God made woman. Together, they labored, loved, and laughed. They drank deep from the living well, and God walked among them.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good (Genesis 1:31).

Every story whispers His name

"Wait a minute, Jesus is in the Old Testament?"

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle and think, "Where have you been these last three months?" You see, since the beginning of August, our Kingdom Kids class has been scouring the Old Testament stories for signs of the promised Messiah. For 12 weeks, we've bent our ears and listened for whispers of Christ in the stories of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Joshua, and David. How had this child missed what we had been emphasizing for so long? I was about to let out a sigh of frustration, when I realized it was not a lack of listening that had prompted the question; but rather, it was a moment of recognition. Jesus is in the Old Testament, as well as the New.

This is a truth that even many adults miss. I was part of a conversation about curriculum when a woman spoke, "Why do we spend so much time studying the stories of the Old Testament? We should stick to teaching about Christ because he's the one who saves us." She's right that Christ should be at the center of our teaching and preaching, but she was mistaken in thinking that the Old Testament was not about Jesus.

Jesus is the one who would crush the head of the lying serpent and clear the way back to the Tree of Life. He would be the ark that saves the people from the flood of God's wrath. He would come from the seed of Abraham and bring blessing to the whole world. Like Joseph, Jesus would be punished even though he had done nothing wrong. Like Moses, he would release the captives from bondage and lead them safely to the Promised Land. He would be the Passover lamb that was slain so that his blood would cover the people. He would be the mediator between God and man. He would be the true Yeshua who would remind the people that "Yahweh saves." He would be the son of David, a king whose kingdom would never end. He would be the fulfillment of the temple, God's dwelling with man. He would be the suffering servant, the stump of Jesse, and the holy branch. He would love his wayward wife, Israel, as Hosea bought back the prostitute, Gomer. He would descend into darkness, like Jonah, and emerge three days later.

No, Emmanuel had not yet been born, and no, the Word had not yet become flesh, but Christ inhabits the Old Testament as well as the New. As Sally Lloyd Jones puts it in The Jesus Storybook Bible,

"There are lots of stories in the Bible but all the stories are telling one big Story - the Story of how God loves his children and comes to rescue them. It takes the whole Bible to tell this story and at the center of the story, there is a baby. Every story in the Bible whispers His name. He is like the missing piece of a puzzle, the piece that makes all the other pieces fit together and suddenly, you can see a beautiful picture."

I also like how Timothy Keller puts it in this video:



Today marks the start of the Advent season. Journey with me through the stories of the Old Testament as we prepare for Christ's coming.

Eternity is calling

This is something I wrote a couple of years ago and felt it would be appropriate to resurrect in light of beginning a new year of Wednesday night care groups.

It's Wednesday night, and I'm in my Chevy Cavalier cruising down Highway 86 with windows down and music up. My eyes keep drifting away from the road to the beautiful sunset on my left. Through the speakers come the words of one of my favorite Rich Mullins' songs, "there's more that rises in the morning than the sun, and more that shines in the night than just the moon..." In the deep vibrations of the song, eternity is calling.

I am a traveler and my journey has taken me to the Proctor's house for Bible study. I enter the red, barn-like house and am greeted with open arms and warm smiles. The smell wafting from the kitchen draws me in where I fill a cup with cold lemonade and pile warm cookies onto a napkin. In the invitation to draw further up and further in, I hear eternity calling.

Carrying my newly acquired snacks, I make my way back into the living room and nestle down in the couch. After a brief time of fellowship, our evening officially commences with the singing of hymns. We flip through the well-worn pages and sing as Mark plays the guitar. I hear the faint echo of voices long past. Together our voices converge and I am ushered out of time; eternity is calling.

The singing ends, we put up our hymnals, and pick up our Bibles. Opening to 1 Corinthians, we divide up the number of verses equally and read aloud one chapter, "Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." Oh how I both fear and long to be known fully! Eternity is calling.

It is now time for prayer. With heads bowed and eyes closed we see clearly the suffering of the world. We pray for sick people, hurting people, and those in prison. We, ourselves, are sick, hurting and imprisoned. We ache for deliverance. The individual prayer requests are enveloped by the silent cry of our souls, "Come Lord Jesus, come!" Eternity is calling.

My departure looms menacingly in my mind as I notice the clock. But I stick around, hoping to sip every ounce of the sweetness from this evening. The conversation moves to casual. We talk about sports, music and entertainment. Everyday things; Sacred things. But now the time has come to leave, so reluctantly I rise to my feet and say my goodbyes. In the longing to stay and the impulse to go, eternity is calling.

I open the door, and walk toward my car. On the way, my eyes gravitate upward where I see the stars blanketing the night sky; little beacons of light in the darkness. A tear trickles down my cheek, and I remember the words to the Rich Mullins' song, "If I weep, let it be as a man who is longing for his home." It seems so far away, yet it is so near.

I can hear it, can you? Eternity is calling.