I Would Look for Bunny for Years, and Years, and Years

As school started up on Monday, I was reminded of a moment two years ago when my then favorite 5-year-old (he’s now 7) started kindergarten. While we were briefly playing before his mom took him to school, he put his bunny—whose formal name is Bunny, a treasured stuffed animal since birth—into his new backpack. I let him know that Bunny, sadly, couldn’t go to school with him. He inquired, “Why, Auntie Jess?” to which I responded, “Well, Bunny is very precious, and we don’t want to lose him. I’m afraid that if you take him to school, he might get lost.” Without hesitation, he removed Bunny from the backpack, commenting, “if he got lost, I would look for Bunny for years, and years, and years.”

This endearing moment made me smile.

It also made me think of Jesus’ parable of the merchant searching for pearls.

Matthew 13:44-46 is one of Jesus’ shorter parables. “Also, the kingdom of heaven is like a man looking for fine pearls. One day he found a very valuable pearl. The man went and sold everything he had to buy that pearl.” (International Children’s Bible)

While I’m hesitant to say Jesus’ parables are simple (indeed, they’re complex!), in many ways, this parable is a simple simile—"the kingdom of heaven is like a man looking for fine pearls…”

This is a “kingdom” parable. Jesus is communicating the extreme value of God’s kingdom—God’s rule, God’s reign, God’s message—via comparison to a “very valuable pearl.” It seems counterproductive for the man to sell everything for a single pearl. Yet, it’s this very paradox that communicates the preciousness of God’s kingdom.

In the first century, pearls were tremendously valuable. So much so, that one pearl could outweigh the value of all of one’s wealth and possessions. Hence, why the man goes pearl hunting, and why he then gives up everything upon discovering the solo pearl.

The takeaway is simple (though living it out is complex!): we must pursue God’s kingdom (the “very valuable pearl”), and when we discover it, sacrifice all to hold onto it.

My favorite 7-year-old inherently understands this takeaway. For him, Bunny* is the “very valuable pearl.” He would search for Bunny far and wide, for a long, long, time until he found it. And he would give up many of his other toys, including his beloved survival equipment, for Bunny, his prized possession.

I hope and pray that one day he will pursue God’s kingdom just as passionately and persistently.  

*When my favorite 7-year-old started 1st grade last year, he convinced himself it was time to say goodbye to Bunny “as 1st graders probably shouldn’t have stuffed animals.” However, his resignation waned, and as he starts 2nd grade this year, Bunny is still around (thankfully).

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An Intensely Loving God

I’m now one of those people who posts pictures of their cat. I have some dissonance about this.

Four years ago, my husband and I inherited a flame point Siamese from our neighbors. They moved to the foothills and were concerned that this indoor/outdoor cat would get eaten by coyotes. As my husband loved this well-known neighborhood pet, when our neighbors asked us to take him in, it was a no-brainer (for my husband, not for me).

I grew up with cats. However, we had mutts—cats of unknown genetic mix. Therefore, I really had no awareness of different cat breeds, or how different and unique they could be. I thought a cat was just a cat. Until we inherited Stanley.  

Stanley’s quirky. He has crossed blue eyes, a human hair fetish, he’s a serial location napper (he sleeps in one place for a while, then moves on to the next), he’s obsessed with food, he’s a splooter, he loves all things cozy (mainly very soft blankets), his favorite toy is a piece of burlap (or a towel), and he crosses his paws like a feline gentlemen when he lays down.

What I’ve come to understand (and appreciate) though, is that he’s a hallmark Siamese.  Siamese are highly intelligent (second in line behind the Abyssinian—the most intelligent cat breed), friendly, affectionate, sociable, talkative (add extremely in front of each adjective), and intensely loving (no joke, this is how one source described them).

Stanley loves his people. He wants to be where you are, and if he can’t see you, he’ll sniff you out with his incredible sense of smell. The biggest offense to Stanley is a closed door, which you’re behind.  Whether in your vicinity or on your lap, he just wants to be nearby.

Like Stanley, the God revealed in the Bible has a distinct character. He’s compassionate, patient, generous, loyal, and just. He’s passionate, vulnerable, and protective. What I’ve come to understand (and appreciate) though, is that he’s intensely loving—this is his hallmark trait.

God loves his people. God wants to be where you are, and if you stray, he’ll seek you out. He just wants to be nearby. He desires to be, and is, present with his people. We witness this in the burning bush, in the pillar of cloud and fire, through the prophetic voice in the Old Testament, and in the person of Jesus in the New Testament.

As we progress towards Easter, I pray that we experience God’s intense love revealed in Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection.

Jesus’ Ride or Die

I attended a women’s conference for church this past weekend, which focused on cultivating friendships, and which reminded me of a journal entry I had written while taking the FLOW class at my church (First Street Church). FLOW was an 8-week class that focused on hearing God and being receptive to the Holy Spirit. We were tasked with different practices each week. One week we focused on Scripture mediation—namely, reading, pondering, and responding to one verse or a set of verses. The original journal entry below, combined with a few present reflections, are my thoughts on John 15.15.

8/3/2019 – John 15:15

“I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing, but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” (NRSV)

My first thought is that we greatly misunderstand this verse; that “friendship” becomes the exclusive lens through which we view, and relate to, Jesus. Truthfully, it reminds me of Buddy Christ in Dogma. My second thought is that we project our 21st c. understanding of friendship onto the 1st c. understanding of friendship. Our present world is so flippant about friendship. I’ve witnessed this in my stepdaughter’s experience. It's so easy to “friend” or “unfriend” someone on Facebook; to give a thumbs up or thumbs down to everything, including people. This is not what Jesus had in mind when he called his disciples “friends.”

To really understand John 15:15, it must be read in context. We need to look at what comes before and after. In verses 12-14, Jesus says exactly what being a “friend” looks like—love and laying down one’s life.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.” (NRSV)

Jesus’ explanation is in sync with a Greco-Roman view of friendship—a relationship defined by duties and obligations. For Jesus (and the cultural context both he and the disciples lived in), friendship was a committed, reciprocal, sacrificial relationship. A friend wasn’t just a feel-good person to hang out with when they needed diversion, or someone they dropped when they no longer needed them. In verse 14, Jesus says we’re only his friends if we do what he commands. If we’re willing to love others with a Christ-like love, if we’re willing to follow Jesus to the cross, then we can be his friends. This long-lasting, committed, sacrificial love is what Jesus is talking about. And this is an honor. It’s a privilege to be in Jesus’ immediate inner circle; to have the same level of connection and intimacy with Jesus that only Abraham and Moses had with God in the Old Testament. However, we need to remember that this privilege is contingent upon being an obedient believer—the part we often miss.

Friends, philos, φίλος, means to be friendly with someone, to wish him well, a companion. And we are all these things to Jesus (and Jesus to us). However, in John 15, there is no friendship without the foot washing (John 13). Our friendship with Jesus is contingent upon service, sacrifice, and love.

“You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.  I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.” (NRSV, John 15:16-17)

In our 21st c., friendship is defined and interpreted in many ways. For example, a “ride or die” is an expression of extreme loyalty to someone or something. Essentially, it’s when you’re willing to do anything for someone you love or someone you really appreciate in your life[1] (I had no idea this was a phrase until I read Shonda Rhimes’ book, Year of Yes, a quick, fun, inspiring read, which I recommend).

This “ride or die” friendship is what Jesus calls us to in John 15. It’s a friendship built on extreme loyalty and love, where we’re willing to lay down our lives for Jesus (and others).

Jesus is no doubt our “ride or die,” but the question is, are we his?

[1] Thank you, Urban Dictionary. https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ride%20or%20die

Homeless Encounter

Two months ago, while my husband and I were checking our PO Box, we saw a homeless man sleeping in the main hallway of the post office. It was night and it was cold, and I immediately felt/sensed/heard, “Go buy a blanket and bring it back to him.” I didn’t though. It was night and it was cold, and I wanted to return to my warm house without being inconvenienced. 

I felt: Disobedient. Disappointed.

Two weeks later, I sold my old espresso machine. As I was walking up to Starbucks to meet the buyer, I noticed a homeless man sitting in front of the store. I immediately felt/sensed/heard, “Give him the money. You don’t need it.” The buyer handed me the $40 and I walked past the homeless man to my car. I’m frugal, I felt like I’d worked hard for that money, and therefore, I didn’t share my spoils.

I felt: Disobedient. Disappointed.

After Starbucks, I headed to Costco to run errands. On the way there, I felt/sensed/heard, “Remember the homeless man in the post office? Buy a blanket at Costco and give it to a homeless person.” So, I bought a blanket and left it in my car.

I felt: Obedient. Victorious.

Two nights later, as I pulled into the parking lot at FPU’s North Fresno Center, I immediately felt/sensed/heard, “You’ll drive right by the post office on your way home from teaching. It’s going to be cold tonight. Stop and see if there’s a homeless man sleeping inside.” So, after class, I stopped at the post office, went in, and saw a homeless man sleeping. I went back to my car, got the blanket, and left it next to him.

I felt: Obedient. Victorious.

I believe that God allows us to revisit our failures; that he recreates moments for us to reflect and learn from our experiences. For our character development, but ultimately, for his glory.

My homeless encounter is one such example.

In the New Testament, the Greek word πειράζω (meaning tempt, test, try) is often used in adversarial contexts like when the devil tempts Jesus in the wilderness, when the Pharisees and Sadducees test Jesus regarding the interpretation of the Torah, when the early churches are tempted by the practices of the surrounding culture, or when God’s very character is on trial.

While πειράζω carries an antagonistic connotation, it can also mean “to try, make trial of, test: for the purpose of ascertaining his quality, or what he thinks, or how he will behave.”[i] We see this in 2 Corinthians 13:5, where πειράζω is translated as examine.

“Examine yourselves to see whether you are living in the faith. Test yourselves. Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless, indeed, you fail to meet the test!” (NRSVUE)

In this verse (and chapter), Paul is calling out the Corinthian’s rebellious behavior via an exhortation to self-reflection. It’s equal parts admonition and invitation. Paul wants them to inspect their behaviors to see if they align with their professed faith; to determine whether their actions reflect the Jesus they claim to follow. It’s also a call to remember that Jesus lives in them and therefore they are capable of making right choices (unless they fail to examine themselves, or in examining themselves, realize they are not in the faith, and therefore Jesus does not live in them).

In both the chaos and comfort of life, we can easily delude ourselves into thinking we’re in the faith, when we’re not. If we don’t examine ourselves, we risk remaining blind to our spiritual incongruence—what we proclaim versus how we act (like my homeless encounter). Paul’s encouragement and admonition should resound just as loudly in our ears today as it did for the Corinthians. So too should his rhetorical question.

In moments of disobedience or rebelliousness (like my homeless encounter), God invites us to self-reflection. He encourages us to mine our souls, to discern our spiritual breaches, to access whether Jesus is truly in us. And, like my homeless encounter, I think this is why God allows us to revisit our rebellious or disobedient moments; why he asks us to revisit the “tests” we previously failed.  These tests are invitations to examine ourselves to see whether we’re genuine followers of Jesus or just cheap replicas.

 [i] https://www.blueletterbible.org/lexicon/g3985/kjv/tr/0-1/

*Caveat: this isn’t a thorough study of 2 Corinthians 13, namely the connection between examining and Paul’s authority as an apostle.

Deadheading Sin

Image taken from https://www.petalrepublic.com/zinnia-flower/

I’m an emerging green thumb (thanks to my mom and Aunt Beth who are truly experts, and of course Martha Stewart). Several years ago, I learned about deadheading—removing dead flower heads from a plant to encourage more blooming (Google.com). Essentially, you cut off what’s dead (and unnecessarily draining resources from the plant) to allow for new, vibrant growth.

Last summer and early fall, when I was deadheading the zinnias in our front yard, I thought, this is exactly why we need to remove sin from our lives.

I think we often conceive of sin as a list of do’s and don’ts; a set of standards that we try not to transgress. If our understanding of sin is this one dimensional, then we fail to grasp what it does in our lives and the detrimental impact it has on our relationships.

Sin is like a dead flower—it drains us, weighs us down, and detracts from the beauty of what our lives could be.

When we live in sin, our lives, and relationships, look dull and dried up. We lack vibrancy and our lives look, well, dead. Sin unnecessarily steals emotional and spiritual energy from us; resources which could be allocated toward our growth and flourishing. Sin mares the image of God that we’re made in (Genesis 1:27) and prevents us from living into the fullness that God intends for our lives and relationships.

If we want to thrive, we need to fastidiously prune sin. We need to cut out the dead, decaying parts of our lives to make room for new, beautiful growth. Only then will our lives reflect the fullness of who God designed us to be; only then will we fully live into his image (Genesis 1:27).