Big Deal

The sound of the vacuum cleaner greeted me as I walked through the doors and into the church foyer. It was 1998 and I was volunteering a few hours a week as a secretary. The man holding the hose - the custodian of the building - saw me. A half-smile flickered across his lips and he leaned over. He flicked a switch, and the vacuum's engine wheezed to a stand-still, rumbling its last bit of protest as he approached me. He had his "I got something to tell ya" look on his face, all serious. I wondered what in the world was next.

"You heard that Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves, did ya?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I heard that somewhere or other." 

He leaned in closer and his voice became a hoarse whisper. "Well - he didn't get this far north!" Then he rocked back on his heels as I laughed ... and grinned as he turned back toward the vacuum. 

He was like that. 

He loved a good laugh. He loved food (cooking it and eating it!) He loved his dear wife. And he loved his Savior. Everything he did, he did with his whole heart. There were never any half-measures. It was whole hog - or in his case, whole "Jiggs dinner" (corned beef and cabbage) - or nothing.

He took particular delight in making people laugh. With him, not AT him. Though he and his wife were never able to have children, kids loved this guy. They flocked around him, calling him by his first name with the title "Mister" before it. "Mister Merrill" was a fixture at the preschool that was housed in the basement of the church for many a year. 

He was a living example of joy and of how the flame of romance never had to go out. He never lost the wonder that his little slip of a wife, whom he considered to be the most beautiful lady on the planet, was in love with him. And my, how he loved her. He always referred to her as "the bride." His bride. Wow.

This photo, "Wedding Day Thoughts"
courtesy of Timeless Photography at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

One friend tells me that he'd say her name over and over to himself as he worked. Out loud - so her name would echo in the halls and come back to him. He did all the cooking, all the housework. He drove her to Costco nearly every weekend and filled up the van with whatever she wanted. And speaking of the van ... since she was small of stature, he would outfit any new van he got with running boards, so that she could step up into it with no trouble. He'd hold the door open for her. He doted on her every whim. 

On the days I'd come in a little late to the church office, the vacuum would be silent. I knew he was catching a little snooze in one of the back pews - a habit he started in his youth and never saw any reason to stop - and that he would be awake in a half hour or less, full of energy to face the rest of the day. 

He shared his philosophy of daily living with anyone who would hear. "We're here for a good time," he'd tell me. "Not for a long time." As a matter of fact, he shared his opinions on a bunch of things with anyone who would take the time to listen. I remember him telling me about what he thought the problem with the modern church was. "Unbelief." He'd shake his head. "Unbelief, pure and simple." Religious people, he shared with me, were more concerned with the right way to do things (and whether everyone else was doing it right) than they were about enjoying the life they had and the relationship with God that they had. 

Over the last six months, he had not been coming to church because he was physically unable to get out. And this morning, as we were worshiping, his wife, mother-in-law, niece and nephew gathered around his bedside in the hospital as he quietly slipped into the presence of the Master. 

He truly found out, as former Imperials singer Jake Hess sang, "Death ain't no big deal." The "big deal" awaited him as he made his entrance this morning.

I'm sure they had a great big rotisserie bar-b-que (with all the utensils) waiting for him when he got through the gates of Heaven, and a big ol' apron with "Kiss the Cook" written all over it. I can't imagine anything he'd like more to keep him busy until his bride arrives.

Life will never be the same.
For him  ...  or for those left behind - those who love him.

Work at Rest

"Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light." - Jesus

There are a few seeming paradoxes in the Bible and especially in the teachings of Jesus. Lose your life and you will find it. Give and you will receive. Humble yourself and you will be exalted. You get the idea.

Perhaps the most mystifying is the directive in the book of Hebrews that tells us that there is a rest promised to the people of God and that we are to "labor to enter into that rest." Prior to that the writer of Hebrews talked about ceasing from striving, just as Abraham ceased from his own efforts and just believed. So did a whole host of others, as Hebrews outlined. So this rest is not Heaven; it is a state of mind, of contentment.

"Labor to enter into that rest." Sounds weird. Kind of like when Jesus talked about the yoke He wanted us to wear. How anyone could find rest with a yoke (physical OR spiritual) strapped on, is beyond human understanding. Until you realize what a yoke does. It focuses the animal on the task in front of it. And ONLY on that task. It trains the ox to live in the moment, to cooperate with every step, to listen to the master. Further, when a young ox needs to be taught how to function in the yoke, how to receive instruction for that moment and that moment only, it is paired with an older, more experienced ox, who will keep the younger one on the path and teach it to respond to the master's commands.

That Jesus would use that illustration not only spoke to the farmers and others in that rural community, but it gave a very powerful hint at the secret to a happy life. That secret is living in the NOW. This is where the illustration above comes in. The New Testament calls the Holy Spirit, who comes to live in us the moment we personally cling to the sacrifice of Jesus as the only way to relationship with God, a Counselor. The Greek word used here is parakletos, meaning advocate, or one "called alongside to help." Fighting against the yoke, being distracted from the moment, causes much distress to the young ox until it gives up its own agenda and works with the older, more powerful ox. Instantly the task becomes much easier, and the drag on the yoke ceases. The job is done in half the time. "My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

In fact, once the ox has learned to live in the moment, it is common to see the pair chewing their cuds while working side by side. A ruminant like a cow or an ox will not chew its cud if it is stressed. Such an animal chewing its cud is a picture of rest, of contentment. It has learned to listen; it has submitted its will to the care and instruction of the master, and it has found peace.

Finding that place of peace takes work. Not busywork. Not following a set of rules and regulations. It takes work to make a priority out of spending time with Him and listening to His voice. Not because we're "supposed to" but because He is our life. Once that willing communion, that ready fellowship and cooperation happens, there is rest.

Remember Me

Someone recently commented that it was patently unsatisfying to reduce the Lord's supper to a little wafer and a half-swallow of juice - that we were meant to celebrate Him and that it should be so much more than that. It should be a feast.

I must admit that I never saw it along those lines before, because it was the symbolism that always got me, not the amount or tastelessness of the bread. (Okay, those wafers really taste awful.)

But my friend had a point. Sometimes we do things a certain way just because it's always been done that way. There isn't any good reason for it. When Jesus first instituted the Lord's supper, as we call it, He didn't give them a little bite. He told twelve men to share the "loaf" among themselves - yes, Judas hadn't left yet. I put "loaf" in quotation marks because of course this was the Passover and all that was available was unleavened bread...matzoh.

I personally believe the "loaf" He used was the middle one - the one the Jewish people saved aside during the Passover meal and put between two layers of cloth (unknowingly symbolizing the second person of the Trinity going into the ground). It was kept sacrosanct, uneaten - nobody knew its purpose. And He married another Jewish ceremony into the mix to highlight the reason why He would soon die for them : a betrothal ceremony - see my post "It's Just like Jesus" (click here for the link).

What He wanted when He instituted communion was one thing only: "Remember Me." In other words, always be grateful: never forget what I'm about to do for each of you, the price I'm going to pay for you, the lengths to which I will go in order to have an intimate, personal relationship with you. Remember that - often. Remember Me - together. Don't let your remembering turn into a dead ritual. Keep it alive. Don't "observe communion." Behold the Lamb of God.

It's Just Like Jesus

It's just like Jesus to take a tradition that everyone knew, and transform it into something new, something meaningful, something so far beyond what anybody anticipated.

The Passover meal (called the Seder) had finished. The Passover is all about mercy. It's all about God not giving us what we deserve - withholding His judgment from Israel.

Now, Jesus (the Jews call Him Yeshua) turns this simple Seder meal into something everyone there recognized instantly: a Jewish betrothal ceremony (a Brit). Who could have predicted that?

In a Brit, the man proposes marriage to the woman. She indicates her acceptance by drinking from the cup with him. God was making an invitation into a relationship: not based on the absence of judgment, but the presence of lavish love. It was revolutionary.

Have a look at this video which explains the connection.

In the ancient Hebrew tradition, too, it was customary for the groom and bride (so betrothed) to call each other husband and wife as soon as she said yes to his proposal of marriage, but not to consummate the marriage until after the groom had gone back home and built a room on his dad's property for him and his bride to live in.

Then when it was done, at any time of the day or night, he could come calling for her (she would be watching for him) - symbolically snatching her away from her parents' house to join him in a procession back to his father's house, and while assembled guests waited outside, the bride and groom would go inside their newly constructed home and consummate the marriage.

Afterward, they would come out and be the guests of honour at a feast, after which there would be up to a week of festivities at the father's house.

I don't need to draw a map. This, from the bread and wine straight through to the marriage supper and the seven days of celebration, is a perfect picture of God's original intention and His unfolding plan: the intimate relationship between Christ and His church, the promise of His coming, the rapture, and the marriage supper of the Lamb.

It shows the passionate desire of the heart of our God to enter into the most profound of relationships - a total union: a melding of spirit, soul, and eventually body that transcends all others.

And the price? Well, the video explains that so well : Jesus' dowry to purchase His bride was His blood... His life. It cost Him everything He had. And He paid it ...just so we could know Him, let Him into the deepest part of us, to keep ourselves only unto Him. So (starting now) He could be intimate with us.

That blows me away.

It's what I now think about whenever I take communion.