In the neighborhood I grew up in there were quite a few kids my age, and we all played together, but I was close to just a few. One of those was a kid named Ronnie Bateman. I was a few years older than him, but we were both born while our families lived on that street and I suppose they must have gotten together as friends for Ron and I to have become so close. I don’t recall a time while I lived on that street that he and I weren’t friends. We were always hanging out together. His family became a surrogate to me when mine began to unravel. When my parents divorced he was there, we didn’t talk about it, but I knew I could express emotions over the situation without any reprimand. He was a good friend in a storm.
Later, when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, I went to stay at his house when she went in for surgery. His mom made my lunch for school, and got me where I needed to go. Again, when my mother was dying from the cancer the surgeons were unable to get, Ron’s home was mine. There was a connection between us that was cemented in my pain, and one that I have never forgotten.
After my mother died I left the neighborhood I had grown up in to go live with my brother Bill. It was a parting that I had no means of comprehending. It was September 1973, and I was 12 years old. All of my stuff was packed, and I was getting ready to leave the house that I had lived in all my life. My brother Dave was going to live there for a while with his wife Heike. I had come up with every reason I could think of to stay there, but there were no other viable options. Living with my father was not a consideration due to his alcoholism, and Dave and Heike were just starting out in their marriage. Taking responsibility for a now troubled 12-year-old would have been too much to bear. So I had to leave the neighborhood. There were no other choices.
I had to leave home.
As I prepared to leave for the last time my friends all came around to say good-bye. I did ok with most of them, although some of that was because I was still simply stunned with all of the sudden changes that were taking place around me. My family had changed, my home had changed, my school had changed, and while there were so many friends and relatives offering their love and support I still felt profoundly and completely isolated. Not even the people or things that I had grown up with seemed the same anymore. Then Ron came over, and I went over to his house for the last time. His mom cried and hugged me and said good-bye as well as his sister Kathy and his dad. We sat around for a while and looked through all of the boxes full of parts from every electric toy we two had owned. We had been gathering all the materials to make a functional robot. No one ever thought to tell us we needed more than electric motors to do it. Finally, it was time for me to leave. We didn’t quite know what to say anymore. Good-bye was too simple for the kind of friendship we had. We were young, but we had gone through a great deal together. In the end we just said good-bye and hugged. That was something I generally didn’t do with other guys at that age, but there was no other way to communicate anything further. I left the neighborhood with promises from my friends to write to them and they to me. I don’t think any of us ever did, kids at that age are generally not the best at that kind of thing.
Quite a few years passed before I heard any more news from the neighborhood. Ron and his family came to my wedding, and Ron caught the garter belt. We didn’t get a chance to talk much then so there was no opportunity for any catching up. I had no contact with anyone there except for my brother Dave and he would occasionally pass on some news that he had heard. He and Heike had moved out of the house when it was sold, so he did not have as much direct contact as before. My wife Sue was pregnant with our second daughter Kaytie when Dave called me with the news that Ron Bateman had just gotten out of the hospital after having surgery for a brain tumor. I was pretty shocked. Ron was only about 23 years old. This wasn’t supposed to happen this young. Dave said that he had heard that he was doing ok, but he hadn’t talked to them directly. I still remembered Ron’s phone number, it was as indelibly etched in my memory as my own from those days. Mr. Bateman answered the phone. I told him who I was and he said,
“Well hello Danny! It’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”
I told him I was fine and gave him a brief rundown on my life up to that point. I then told him I had heard about Ron’s situation and had called to see how he was doing. He had just come home from the hospital the day before I called.
“Hello?” he said.
“Hey Ron, this is Dan Bode.” I replied.
“Wow! How ya’ doin’ buddy? It’s been a long time!” He sounded tired.
“I’m doing pretty well, how about you?” I asked.
“I’m doing OK. I get tired real easy though. The doctor says that will get better with time. How did you hear about me?”
I told him about Dave and how he had told me about it all. We talked about all we had been doing over the many years we had missed in each other’s lives. He had become a Christian about the same time I had. Both of us had grown up in the church, but we never had an understanding about what it meant to have a personal relationship with Christ. After searching around for a few years we both wound up back at the Cross. It was good to know we had that level of spiritual fellowship to connect. We talked about getting together sometime and going sailing. He had joined a sailing club and would go out on the bay. He enjoyed the peace. We made no definite dates since we had no idea how his recovery would progress. I called him every few months after that to maintain contact, and he seemed to improve in his strength and general health for a while, but then things seemed to go down hill again. He told me that another tumor had developed. This time the doctors could do nothing for him. He was going to die.
His family settled in and waited with him. He was engaged at the time to a lovely young woman who chose to stay with him and become a part of his family.
I don’t remember how long it took for the tumor to develop to the point that it totally incapacitated him, but when he went into the hospital for the last time his mom called me and I came back to see him. I remember walking in to the hospital and finding the hall where his room was. His mom was just coming out when she saw me. She immediately put her arms out to hug me, and as I put my arms around her I remember saying “I love you.” It was the first thing out of my mouth. I didn’t think about it prior to that, it was simply the right thing to say. She had been my mother too for a while. She held me tighter and sobbed quietly for just a moment. She let me go and said “I love you too Danny”.
“How is he?” I asked.
I could tell the room was crowded, and there was a lot of noise going on in there.
“He’s actually doing pretty well. Several of our friends from church came to visit, and do you know he said he wanted to lead them in some hymns? Can you believe it?”
I had to believe it, because I heard a bunch of people singing hymns in his room. When I walked in they were just finishing the last one, and people were starting to file out of the room. They all smiled at me as they left with tears in their eyes. I walked closer to the bed and his sister Kathy, who had been sitting next to him, came over and hugged me.
“Ron guess who’s here? It’s Danny.”
“I was hoping you would make it out.” He said.
He didn’t look too much different from when I had seen him at my wedding a few years before. I don’t recall him looking emaciated or anything like that. He was, however, completely incapacitated. The tumor had grown to the point that it was actually shoving his brain to the side. All he could do was lay there with his head turned to the side. He could see and he could speak, but that was all. He would occasionally ask someone to turn his head for him. Because the pain was now so intense the doctor had put him on a continual morphine feed. There was nothing they could do now except ease his pain. We talked for a little while, but not too long. He fell asleep and I just sat by his bed for an hour or two praying for him and his family. When he was awake he was either singing, praising God, or telling a joke. He was the most positive person there.
Occasionally the morphine would intervene as he drifted in and out of a drug-induced fog, but something struck me very profoundly as I watched this happen to him. Most people are quite incoherent in this state, rambling on with jumbled thoughts or just basic nonsense, but not Ron. When the morphine took over and Ron lost conscious control of his senses, the only words that came out of his mouth were praises to God. He was totally oblivious to my presence, but not to his Creator. I almost felt as if I was intruding on a private conversation, so powerful was the presence of God in that moment. It struck me then that Ron had truly given himself completely over to God.
We all talk about doing that don’t we? We all talk about giving ourselves completely over to Christ, and living for Him. That is the goal of our existence. That is the one point in our life that every Christian strives for, to surrender completely to God and let Him do His work in and through us. Ron had reached that point. He was so completely immersed in the Holy Spirit that when he had no control over himself, God did. I asked myself then, if I were in the same condition as Ron what words would be coming out of my mouth? Would the pursuit of God be so ingrained in me that I would still praise Him if I had no control of my actions?
It has been 13 years since I asked myself these questions, and I have yet to answer them.
Ron was sent home to die in his own bed, in the same room we had always gone to play in when we were kids. One night in the middle of the night as his father was checking on him, he awoke briefly and asked his dad to cover him up. His dad covered him and checked the morphine flow on his way back to bed. He died peacefully a few hours later as he slept.
His mom called me the next day to tell me he was gone, and when the memorial service would be. I was there to see all of his friends and family say their good-byes and add my own.
It struck me as I sat and listened to everyone speak with such love about this man that I had known all my life, that I had watched a man die. I have indeed heard the words “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” more than I wanted to in my lifetime, but never had I been there to actually observe a death of someone I knew well. I had been there shortly after my mother died, but I was not there to see the process. Here I had actually talked to Ron about where he was going. We had talked about seeing each other again, and then he faded out and started praising God while he was not aware himself of what he was doing.
I had seen death before, but I realized then that I would never, in any other circumstance, consider it such an honor to watch a man die.
We are all appointed once to die, but Ron had taken his one life and used it to die well.
©Dan Bode 1998
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Love Conquers All
Love Conquers All.
I’ve heard that phrase for most of my life at one time or another, and I’m not sure I ever really understood it until now. I have no idea why it took so long.
It portrays love in the sense of the conquering hero.
The one whom no enemy can stand against.
The difference for me now is that I understand that the battlefield on which all this conflict takes place is in my own heart.
When I examine it realistically I have to admit that I always thought of it in terms of conquering someone else. I wanted love to conform others to my own expectations of what they should be. I wanted love to be at my command.
Imagine my surprise then, when the blade turned upon me instead.
Love will, if I let it, overcome my pain to grant forgiveness, or ask for it.
It will overcome my pride to extend my hand in friendship to my enemy.
It will overcome my anger to allow my faithfulness.
It will overcome me.
Love conquers all, but first, love conquers me. My walls must be overcome from within.
It is sometimes hard to love, but worth your whole life to reach just one moment of being completely known by another, and to know the other in turn. To reach out your hand unseen in the dark knowing the hand of another is already there in expectation to take it.
It is worth everything for just one moment of this. To be known, and not forgotten.
Living your life in pursuit of that first, and maybe only, all encompassing instant of perfection.
Because God is Love, He created us as an expression of Himself, hence we are created in His image. As an expression of God Himself we are inherently worthy of His sacrifice for us, and yet God on a cross seems so incongruous to our concept of love. That’s the problem with our interpretation of love. It’s so watered down we have no concept of what real love is. It’s as though in so many ways we have sanitized the true expression of love to be bloodless. It’s all butterflies and sunny days to our general way of thinking.
We seem to forget that love "endures all things"(1Cor 13:7), and the need for endurance implies conflict, distraction, and sometimes pain. We should love fiercely letting nothing come between us.
Love, when practiced honestly, becomes beauty incarnate.
Love influences the practice of my life. It gives everything I do different meaning.
Love truly is an action, and yet it is more. It becomes what we do, where we go, who we know and how we know them. Love cannot reach its full potential in our lives if we do not allow ourselves to live in complete surrender to it. If I am only capable of loving someone when things are all good, then I don’t really love at all.
Each of the qualities of love (1Cor 13) implies that there is a need for that quality because its opposite exists in the world. Patience is needed because the lack of it causes bitterness. Kindness is needed because cruelty exists. The difficult part of this is that we all know that we are capable of dealing out all the opposing forces of love. We focus on the positive aspects because we feel better when we actively pursue them as a lifestyle. There is healing in the practice of love.
“Love your enemies” (Lk 6:35), is the most difficult aspect of love, but Jesus gave us examples of it throughout His life. Judas was the most difficult enemy to deal with because he was already loved. His ability to cause pain was increased by the measure of love Christ gave him. There are times when the evidence of the love of God seems so profound to me that I actually understand why some people fear it rather than readily accept it.
Even the one who betrayed Christ was allowed at His table. Christ knew that Judas was His betrayer, and yet His love for him was such that He still desired Judas’ presence in the Passover meal; one of the most intimate of settings.
Judas didn’t deserve that and he knew it. Jesus knew this as well, and gave it to him anyway. All this made Judas’ betrayal that much more profound to Judas, for the greater the love we give when betrayed causes that much more pain for the betrayer.
And is it not one of the most important aspects of love that we should find the ability to love our enemies for the simple fact that when we sin we ourselves act as the most intimate of enemies to God, and He loves us still? Is He not the greatest example of loving one’s enemy simply by loving us for, “He loved us while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8), let alone the ones we condemn without authority?
It is the ability of love to not only conquer all things, but to remain after everything is done and over with. After all the blood has been shed, the ground churned, and with the vultures circling overhead to pick at the corpses of our discontent, Love walks among us to restore us after all the pain to a healed state ready to love again. It is self perpetuating by nature so that when we learn to love ourselves, as God loves us, we understand that we must do something to maintain it in ourselves in order to stay alive to share it with others.
His love makes us matter.
And so we are filled with possibilities.
Because of His love Jesus not only died, but He came back for us!
He. Came. Back.
It is this single, overwhelming act of love that inspires every other expression of true love that we can ever submit to or practice in the human experience.
Through His redemption we are alive with the potential to discover the worth of our very souls.
Live in love,
Do battle in love,
Rest in love,
Die in love,
Return in love.
God did.
It’s called Easter.
©Dan Bode 2010
I’ve heard that phrase for most of my life at one time or another, and I’m not sure I ever really understood it until now. I have no idea why it took so long.
It portrays love in the sense of the conquering hero.
The one whom no enemy can stand against.
The difference for me now is that I understand that the battlefield on which all this conflict takes place is in my own heart.
When I examine it realistically I have to admit that I always thought of it in terms of conquering someone else. I wanted love to conform others to my own expectations of what they should be. I wanted love to be at my command.
Imagine my surprise then, when the blade turned upon me instead.
Love will, if I let it, overcome my pain to grant forgiveness, or ask for it.
It will overcome my pride to extend my hand in friendship to my enemy.
It will overcome my anger to allow my faithfulness.
It will overcome me.
Love conquers all, but first, love conquers me. My walls must be overcome from within.
It is sometimes hard to love, but worth your whole life to reach just one moment of being completely known by another, and to know the other in turn. To reach out your hand unseen in the dark knowing the hand of another is already there in expectation to take it.
It is worth everything for just one moment of this. To be known, and not forgotten.
Living your life in pursuit of that first, and maybe only, all encompassing instant of perfection.
Because God is Love, He created us as an expression of Himself, hence we are created in His image. As an expression of God Himself we are inherently worthy of His sacrifice for us, and yet God on a cross seems so incongruous to our concept of love. That’s the problem with our interpretation of love. It’s so watered down we have no concept of what real love is. It’s as though in so many ways we have sanitized the true expression of love to be bloodless. It’s all butterflies and sunny days to our general way of thinking.
We seem to forget that love "endures all things"(1Cor 13:7), and the need for endurance implies conflict, distraction, and sometimes pain. We should love fiercely letting nothing come between us.
Love, when practiced honestly, becomes beauty incarnate.
Love influences the practice of my life. It gives everything I do different meaning.
Love truly is an action, and yet it is more. It becomes what we do, where we go, who we know and how we know them. Love cannot reach its full potential in our lives if we do not allow ourselves to live in complete surrender to it. If I am only capable of loving someone when things are all good, then I don’t really love at all.
Each of the qualities of love (1Cor 13) implies that there is a need for that quality because its opposite exists in the world. Patience is needed because the lack of it causes bitterness. Kindness is needed because cruelty exists. The difficult part of this is that we all know that we are capable of dealing out all the opposing forces of love. We focus on the positive aspects because we feel better when we actively pursue them as a lifestyle. There is healing in the practice of love.
“Love your enemies” (Lk 6:35), is the most difficult aspect of love, but Jesus gave us examples of it throughout His life. Judas was the most difficult enemy to deal with because he was already loved. His ability to cause pain was increased by the measure of love Christ gave him. There are times when the evidence of the love of God seems so profound to me that I actually understand why some people fear it rather than readily accept it.
Even the one who betrayed Christ was allowed at His table. Christ knew that Judas was His betrayer, and yet His love for him was such that He still desired Judas’ presence in the Passover meal; one of the most intimate of settings.
Judas didn’t deserve that and he knew it. Jesus knew this as well, and gave it to him anyway. All this made Judas’ betrayal that much more profound to Judas, for the greater the love we give when betrayed causes that much more pain for the betrayer.
And is it not one of the most important aspects of love that we should find the ability to love our enemies for the simple fact that when we sin we ourselves act as the most intimate of enemies to God, and He loves us still? Is He not the greatest example of loving one’s enemy simply by loving us for, “He loved us while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8), let alone the ones we condemn without authority?
It is the ability of love to not only conquer all things, but to remain after everything is done and over with. After all the blood has been shed, the ground churned, and with the vultures circling overhead to pick at the corpses of our discontent, Love walks among us to restore us after all the pain to a healed state ready to love again. It is self perpetuating by nature so that when we learn to love ourselves, as God loves us, we understand that we must do something to maintain it in ourselves in order to stay alive to share it with others.
His love makes us matter.
And so we are filled with possibilities.
Because of His love Jesus not only died, but He came back for us!
He. Came. Back.
It is this single, overwhelming act of love that inspires every other expression of true love that we can ever submit to or practice in the human experience.
Through His redemption we are alive with the potential to discover the worth of our very souls.
Live in love,
Do battle in love,
Rest in love,
Die in love,
Return in love.
God did.
It’s called Easter.
©Dan Bode 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Right Thing
"For such is the will of God, that by doing right we may silence the ignorance of foolish men." 1Peter 2:15.
We can do the “right thing” all of our lives and bad things will still happen to us. Doing the right thing does not save us from future circumstances. It is when we continue to do the “right thing” when life goes bad on us that our lives gain significance in the eyes of others.
Job is the perfect example of the man who did the “right thing” all the time, yet he suffered a great deal. The real significance of Jobs’ life is that he continued to do the right thing even as he suffered. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but when I really give it some thought I realize that if Job hadn’t acted as he did he wouldn’t even be in the Bible. If he hadn’t continued to live as he always had his faith would have no standing with the world. It wasn’t his suffering that set him apart, a lot of people suffer. What set Job apart, what made him worthy of our notice, was what he did in the midst of his suffering. He just continued doing what he had always done.
It is when we continue to do the “right thing” when bad things happen that the world takes notice. When trials occur in our lives our first question is often, “Why me?”. The more appropriate question should be, “Why not me?”. My faith does not exempt me from adverse circumstance. Trials happen to everyone at some point, but we as Christians are given the means to cope.
Prior to Jesus, Job was the epitome of suffering. Things that never happen to anyone happened to Job all at the same time. A lot of people get hung up on the whole idea that God allowed Job’s children to be killed. What most of us fail to do is to look at these events from God’s perspective. Granted this is a difficult proposition at any time, but we need to try it in order to understand this issue. God knew that Job’s children would be going to heaven, which is better than being on earth any day. So their deaths were not a bad thing from His view, and once they got there I know they were pretty happy with the outcome. The reason He knew where they were going, aside from the fact that He’s God, is that Job had raised them to know God. In fact, Job even made sacrifices for his own children just in case they forgot or sinned somehow. Just to make sure all the bases were covered. Job did the “right thing” even when no one else thought he needed to. Job was conscious of his relationship with God all the time. Because Job spent so much time in fellowship with God there were qualities in that relationship that most of us only dream of because we have chosen not to pursue God wholeheartedly.
God knew Job. He trusted Job.
When God pointed to Job He said, “Have you considered my servant Job?” He didn’t say “Here’s a long list of my followers that you should look at.” Of all the people on earth He could have mentioned He named only one. He did not name Job’s children, or his wife, or his friends.
Job was the only name that passed God’s lips.
To have faith is to be tested. I have to wonder if untested faith is real faith at all.
Let me clarify that statement: We all have faith in something. It may be a thing, a person, or even an activity. We tend to put our faith in people or things that have passed some test that has proven to us that it is worthy of our dependence on it. Sooner or later the object of our faith will be judged as to whether or not it is worthy of it. I can tell you with complete certainty that everything we have faith in on this earth will fail us. The reason for that is this; on earth we determine whether something or someone is worthy of our faith, but with God it is He who determines if we are worthy to have faith in Him. The quality of our faith in God is determined by its resistance to the influences of a dying world, and it becomes our own choice as to whether we allow our faith to be strengthened or weakened. To be tested is to go beyond our own limits to the point where only God’s strength can sustain us. It is when I reach the limits of all that I aspire to that I find that I alone am not enough.
So it is that Satan dares to come before God, and he can’t help but acknowledge God’s authority in saying that he can’t get past the protection that God has set around his servant. I think there was a lot more to this interaction between God and Satan than we realize. I think Satan came face to face with the reality of God as he never had before.
“Have you considered my servant Job?”
Satan already knew about Job. He was already aware of the protection God afforded him. "Have You not made a hedge about him and his house and all that he has, on every side ?" (Job 1:10) He had already tried to get past God’s defenses. That’s how he knew that God had surrounded Job with His protection.
I think God was pointing something out to Satan. I think He was sending a message to Satan that said, “Whatever you do to this man will never be enough to make him curse Me. There is nothing you could ever do to anyone or for anyone that will create in them that kind of loving devotion to you. I alone am the one who will have this, and I freely return that same devotion to those who give it to Me. You lost this war before it began just as I have always told you. Have you considered my servant Job? Your worst will never be enough to change his heart. I already know the truth of Job, but by testing him you will only be proving the truth to yourself. You will not win. Remember the name of Job whenever you think you have won an inch of ground, and remember that you have gained nothing! So consider my servant Job, Satan, and understand that you haven’t got a prayer.”
I think the truth is this: God did not choose Job to suffer. He chose Job to survive.
God knew what Satan intended, and He knew that Job would not give up. He also knew that others would, and they would go to hell if Satan tested them the same way.
There are days when we have grief upon grief. Tragedy hits and life falls apart. We are not strangers to this. When something tragic happens I lose the ability to understand the why or the wherefore. It is completely overshadowed by the pain. Sometimes we don’t want to see our wounds. Sometimes we cover it over rather than acknowledging the fact that faith and grace are often very bloody.
When God’s protection was in place Job apparently did not feel Satan’s attacks. When it was taken away Job felt the attacks, but still endured because he knew for a fact that God was still there. Job had no ability to understand why these things were happening, but he did know without a doubt that none of it affected the fact of God’s existence or His love for him.
By living his life as he had, Job ensured that his own faith was strong enough to maintain an unseen connection with God so when God withdrew His protection from Job their connection remained. And we see the truth of this in scripture when we read, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8) Once we are near God we are simply near Him. It doesn’t matter what side of the halfway mark you are on. To be in the presence of God is overwhelming no matter how far back in the balcony you think you are. All the seats are good.
After describing Job’s restoration the book of Job ends saying, “After this, Job lived 140 years, and saw his sons and his grandsons, four generations. And Job died, an old man and full of days.”
There is no further mention of Satan seeking to inflict anything further on him. He took his last shot and failed. I think Satan fled the halls of heaven chased by the voice of God echoing behind him saying, “Remember my servant Job.” Satan is a failure, and God considers us the jewel of His creation.
Satan’s failure is our success by God’s proxy. There is no better claim to God’s love than this. He proved it to us at the Crucifixion.
We will suffer,
and we will have joy,
and God will welcome us Home.
©Dan Bode 2010
We can do the “right thing” all of our lives and bad things will still happen to us. Doing the right thing does not save us from future circumstances. It is when we continue to do the “right thing” when life goes bad on us that our lives gain significance in the eyes of others.
Job is the perfect example of the man who did the “right thing” all the time, yet he suffered a great deal. The real significance of Jobs’ life is that he continued to do the right thing even as he suffered. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but when I really give it some thought I realize that if Job hadn’t acted as he did he wouldn’t even be in the Bible. If he hadn’t continued to live as he always had his faith would have no standing with the world. It wasn’t his suffering that set him apart, a lot of people suffer. What set Job apart, what made him worthy of our notice, was what he did in the midst of his suffering. He just continued doing what he had always done.
It is when we continue to do the “right thing” when bad things happen that the world takes notice. When trials occur in our lives our first question is often, “Why me?”. The more appropriate question should be, “Why not me?”. My faith does not exempt me from adverse circumstance. Trials happen to everyone at some point, but we as Christians are given the means to cope.
Prior to Jesus, Job was the epitome of suffering. Things that never happen to anyone happened to Job all at the same time. A lot of people get hung up on the whole idea that God allowed Job’s children to be killed. What most of us fail to do is to look at these events from God’s perspective. Granted this is a difficult proposition at any time, but we need to try it in order to understand this issue. God knew that Job’s children would be going to heaven, which is better than being on earth any day. So their deaths were not a bad thing from His view, and once they got there I know they were pretty happy with the outcome. The reason He knew where they were going, aside from the fact that He’s God, is that Job had raised them to know God. In fact, Job even made sacrifices for his own children just in case they forgot or sinned somehow. Just to make sure all the bases were covered. Job did the “right thing” even when no one else thought he needed to. Job was conscious of his relationship with God all the time. Because Job spent so much time in fellowship with God there were qualities in that relationship that most of us only dream of because we have chosen not to pursue God wholeheartedly.
God knew Job. He trusted Job.
When God pointed to Job He said, “Have you considered my servant Job?” He didn’t say “Here’s a long list of my followers that you should look at.” Of all the people on earth He could have mentioned He named only one. He did not name Job’s children, or his wife, or his friends.
Job was the only name that passed God’s lips.
To have faith is to be tested. I have to wonder if untested faith is real faith at all.
Let me clarify that statement: We all have faith in something. It may be a thing, a person, or even an activity. We tend to put our faith in people or things that have passed some test that has proven to us that it is worthy of our dependence on it. Sooner or later the object of our faith will be judged as to whether or not it is worthy of it. I can tell you with complete certainty that everything we have faith in on this earth will fail us. The reason for that is this; on earth we determine whether something or someone is worthy of our faith, but with God it is He who determines if we are worthy to have faith in Him. The quality of our faith in God is determined by its resistance to the influences of a dying world, and it becomes our own choice as to whether we allow our faith to be strengthened or weakened. To be tested is to go beyond our own limits to the point where only God’s strength can sustain us. It is when I reach the limits of all that I aspire to that I find that I alone am not enough.
So it is that Satan dares to come before God, and he can’t help but acknowledge God’s authority in saying that he can’t get past the protection that God has set around his servant. I think there was a lot more to this interaction between God and Satan than we realize. I think Satan came face to face with the reality of God as he never had before.
“Have you considered my servant Job?”
Satan already knew about Job. He was already aware of the protection God afforded him. "Have You not made a hedge about him and his house and all that he has, on every side ?" (Job 1:10) He had already tried to get past God’s defenses. That’s how he knew that God had surrounded Job with His protection.
I think God was pointing something out to Satan. I think He was sending a message to Satan that said, “Whatever you do to this man will never be enough to make him curse Me. There is nothing you could ever do to anyone or for anyone that will create in them that kind of loving devotion to you. I alone am the one who will have this, and I freely return that same devotion to those who give it to Me. You lost this war before it began just as I have always told you. Have you considered my servant Job? Your worst will never be enough to change his heart. I already know the truth of Job, but by testing him you will only be proving the truth to yourself. You will not win. Remember the name of Job whenever you think you have won an inch of ground, and remember that you have gained nothing! So consider my servant Job, Satan, and understand that you haven’t got a prayer.”
I think the truth is this: God did not choose Job to suffer. He chose Job to survive.
God knew what Satan intended, and He knew that Job would not give up. He also knew that others would, and they would go to hell if Satan tested them the same way.
There are days when we have grief upon grief. Tragedy hits and life falls apart. We are not strangers to this. When something tragic happens I lose the ability to understand the why or the wherefore. It is completely overshadowed by the pain. Sometimes we don’t want to see our wounds. Sometimes we cover it over rather than acknowledging the fact that faith and grace are often very bloody.
When God’s protection was in place Job apparently did not feel Satan’s attacks. When it was taken away Job felt the attacks, but still endured because he knew for a fact that God was still there. Job had no ability to understand why these things were happening, but he did know without a doubt that none of it affected the fact of God’s existence or His love for him.
By living his life as he had, Job ensured that his own faith was strong enough to maintain an unseen connection with God so when God withdrew His protection from Job their connection remained. And we see the truth of this in scripture when we read, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8) Once we are near God we are simply near Him. It doesn’t matter what side of the halfway mark you are on. To be in the presence of God is overwhelming no matter how far back in the balcony you think you are. All the seats are good.
After describing Job’s restoration the book of Job ends saying, “After this, Job lived 140 years, and saw his sons and his grandsons, four generations. And Job died, an old man and full of days.”
There is no further mention of Satan seeking to inflict anything further on him. He took his last shot and failed. I think Satan fled the halls of heaven chased by the voice of God echoing behind him saying, “Remember my servant Job.” Satan is a failure, and God considers us the jewel of His creation.
Satan’s failure is our success by God’s proxy. There is no better claim to God’s love than this. He proved it to us at the Crucifixion.
We will suffer,
and we will have joy,
and God will welcome us Home.
©Dan Bode 2010
Thursday, December 17, 2009
What Did the Shepherds Think?
What did the shepherds think?
Their part in the life of Christ did not end on the night of His birth.
How did they feel when the angels told them of Christ’s birth?
Certainly they were awestruck. They were most likely quite shocked to be chosen to receive this announcement. They were, after all, fairly low on the social scale even though they were the guardians of the main resource of the towns’ primary industry. They were perhaps not well known for their social skills. They were out in the hills by themselves for long periods of time, and human interaction seldom occurred. The appearance of angels announcing a birth would be shocking enough, but they must have wondered at the significance of their inclusion in it at all. They were, as a matter of course, avoided by the general population.
Perhaps it was later that they began to understand the significance of their role in Jesus’ life. Perhaps even years later, when Jesus’ ministry was in full swing, and if they realized that this Jesus was the same babe they once honored, when John the Baptist announced Him as the Lamb of God, maybe it was then that they began to see the implication of their presence in the stable. For the reality of their job, their vocation, one that was often passed on from father to son for generations, was to raise these lambs for sacrifice in the Temple at Jerusalem. This was the industry of this little town of Bethlehem. They were raised to be laid across the altar as atonement for the sins of the people. The perfect lamb was chosen and killed from the flocks they raised! Not since Abraham had stretched his own son Isaac across the stones had a human ever laid upon the altar, and he had been spared. Simply taking the title of The Lamb told the world who He was, for those who had ears to hear.
Did they perhaps hear of this and cover their mouths as they gasped in surprise? This babe, this Man, the Lamb?
How could this be?
And again, how did they feel when this same man who called himself the Son of God, also named Himself the Good Shepherd? Did they straighten their spines with the implication of the honor He gave them? Did they plant their shepherd’s staffs and let the light of pride shine in their eyes? Did they smile and think, “I knew Him! I was there when He was born!”?
Would they not also bow their heads in sorrow, and let a tear roll down a weathered cheek when they new the final destination of the unblemished lamb?
And how is it that He was both lamb and shepherd?
As the Lamb He knew He needed a caring and watchful eye on Him to insure His safety and fulfill His needs.
As a Shepherd He knew exactly what a lamb needed when He took them to the still waters, He knew how best to protect them; by laying down His life for them on the altar where they were meant to lie.
As a man He knows our needs.
As our God He knows our needs.
But all of this must have come later to the minds of the shepherds. They could not have known all that He was as they beheld Him in the manger. All they knew was the joy His birth brought the world that day, overwhelming as it was. They saw and heard a heavenly host, and found a King in lowly circumstance.
And in so many ways and so many times I am left to wonder what it must have been like to be a shepherd, kneeling before that bed of hay bringing with me the only gift I had available to me and saying,
“I am but a lowly shepherd and I have so little, but here, I have brought for you this perfect lamb….”
©Dan Bode 2004
Their part in the life of Christ did not end on the night of His birth.
How did they feel when the angels told them of Christ’s birth?
Certainly they were awestruck. They were most likely quite shocked to be chosen to receive this announcement. They were, after all, fairly low on the social scale even though they were the guardians of the main resource of the towns’ primary industry. They were perhaps not well known for their social skills. They were out in the hills by themselves for long periods of time, and human interaction seldom occurred. The appearance of angels announcing a birth would be shocking enough, but they must have wondered at the significance of their inclusion in it at all. They were, as a matter of course, avoided by the general population.
Perhaps it was later that they began to understand the significance of their role in Jesus’ life. Perhaps even years later, when Jesus’ ministry was in full swing, and if they realized that this Jesus was the same babe they once honored, when John the Baptist announced Him as the Lamb of God, maybe it was then that they began to see the implication of their presence in the stable. For the reality of their job, their vocation, one that was often passed on from father to son for generations, was to raise these lambs for sacrifice in the Temple at Jerusalem. This was the industry of this little town of Bethlehem. They were raised to be laid across the altar as atonement for the sins of the people. The perfect lamb was chosen and killed from the flocks they raised! Not since Abraham had stretched his own son Isaac across the stones had a human ever laid upon the altar, and he had been spared. Simply taking the title of The Lamb told the world who He was, for those who had ears to hear.
Did they perhaps hear of this and cover their mouths as they gasped in surprise? This babe, this Man, the Lamb?
How could this be?
And again, how did they feel when this same man who called himself the Son of God, also named Himself the Good Shepherd? Did they straighten their spines with the implication of the honor He gave them? Did they plant their shepherd’s staffs and let the light of pride shine in their eyes? Did they smile and think, “I knew Him! I was there when He was born!”?
Would they not also bow their heads in sorrow, and let a tear roll down a weathered cheek when they new the final destination of the unblemished lamb?
And how is it that He was both lamb and shepherd?
As the Lamb He knew He needed a caring and watchful eye on Him to insure His safety and fulfill His needs.
As a Shepherd He knew exactly what a lamb needed when He took them to the still waters, He knew how best to protect them; by laying down His life for them on the altar where they were meant to lie.
As a man He knows our needs.
As our God He knows our needs.
But all of this must have come later to the minds of the shepherds. They could not have known all that He was as they beheld Him in the manger. All they knew was the joy His birth brought the world that day, overwhelming as it was. They saw and heard a heavenly host, and found a King in lowly circumstance.
And in so many ways and so many times I am left to wonder what it must have been like to be a shepherd, kneeling before that bed of hay bringing with me the only gift I had available to me and saying,
“I am but a lowly shepherd and I have so little, but here, I have brought for you this perfect lamb….”
©Dan Bode 2004
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Papa Taught Me
Recently I had the opportunity to watch my Grandchildren Kaya, five, and Oliver, one, for a few hours while their parents were busy. At some point during our time together Kaya asked if she could tie my shoe which was sitting on the floor next to me. I was under the impression that she didn’t know how to tie shoes yet so I wasn’t worried about it.
“Sure.”, I said.
She happily went to work tying my shoe. It occurred to me that she didn’t really have any shoes with laces. Hers have buckles or Velcro. Don’t get me wrong, I think Velcro is one of the greatest inventions of all time. It’s right up there with duct tape. The thing is that nowadays I’m pretty sure the only kids who know how to tie knots anymore are Boy Scouts. Knots can be pretty useful. They should have classes on knots in school.
“Ok Papa I’m done.”
She handed me back my shoe with a knot that I’m sure bore a remarkable resemblance to the Gordian knot that Alexander the Great had to contend with just before he went on to conquer Asia Minor. He used a sword to deal with his. I always appreciated his straightforward approach to that. I was afraid I might have to contend with this in a similar manner, although I could probably do it with scissors, even though I have a friend who collects real swords and has a few he would let me borrow.
For someone who didn’t know how to tie shoes she had done a pretty remarkable job. The laces looped under and around each other with knots tied randomly amongst them. Then they were looped haphazardly around the area where the laces are strung through the holes in the shoe and tied again. Have you ever seen a handful of earthworms all intertwined in a mass that looks like one big earthworm all wrapped up in itself?
That’s the best description of what it looked like.
She grabbed my other shoe and began to work on that one.
“Uh sweetie, that’s not really the way you tie a shoe.”
“Well I don’t really know how to tie a shoe. Would you show me?”
I was at one of those points in the day where I actually didn’t have anything that needed doing, and, after realizing that this was indeed the case and my time was actually free for a while, I said, “Sure”.
So I proceeded to show her how to make the first knot, which she had already proven pretty adept at, and then the first loop, and then wrapping the lace around the first loop and pulling it through. She then tried it herself and didn’t quite get it right, but it was a very good first attempt. I showed her again what needed to be done, telling her in the process, “I didn’t get it right the first time either. It took me a little while before I got it.”
Of course, immediately after I said that she got it.
I looked down at the shoe, and realized that it was tied correctly!
“Hey! You did it!” I said.
She looked at the shoe with eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise.
Then she looked at me and smiled.
“I did it!” she yelled and clapped her hands.
“Very good! It took me a lot longer than that! Good job!” I said. You’re supposed to make a big deal when kids do something right and act excited, but I was really excited about it! I’d forgotten how much fun it is to see a child’s face light up like that when they come to understand something good for the first time.
“I want to do it again! Can I do it again?”
“Sure!”
So she did it again, and again, and again. She got it right every time, refining her method a little more each time.
Then she turned it around on me.
“Ok, now let’s pretend that you don’t know how to tie a shoe.” She said, “You have to do it wrong and then I’ll teach you how to do it right. You have to get it wrong six times ok?” she said.
“Ok.”
So I pretended to mess up tying the shoe laces.
“That’s good but you didn’t get it quite right.” She said in her best teacher’s voice. “You need to make sure you put the loop through here like this.”
We went through six variations of messing up the tying of the laces until I was allowed to get it right.
“You did it! Good job!”
It occurred to me that the “Tying of the Shoes” is kind of a milestone in childhood. I’ve never really asked anyone else about this, but it turned out to be a big deal for me. To this day I remember the first time I tied my own shoe without any assistance. I was in kindergarten at the time so I was Kaya’s age when it happened. I remember being so surprised. I was almost afraid to untie it to try again for fear I would be stranded with flopping shoe laces. I practiced and practiced without success and then at some point for no apparent reason it all just came together at one specific moment, and there it was! A tied shoe lace! Will you look at that! One more step toward independence complete. I think it was about that time I started thinking about trying to ride a bicycle.
It wasn’t until the next morning that it really hit me about exactly what had happened.
I was getting ready for work brushing my teeth. I could hear Kaya in the living room showing her father how she could tie shoes.
“Good job Kaya! I’m so proud of you!” he said.
“Papa taught me!” she said.
When I heard those words it all crystallized for me. You see I know that my daughter had been working with her and teaching her how to do it before this, but it just hadn’t come to that final moment. I was given the privilege of seeing everyone else’s efforts come to the moment of fruition. I didn’t really teach her so much as she just came to that final stage of learning. I was just a witness to it.
In that moment I became acutely aware of the memories we give our children. There is no way to determine what will stick in their minds, or how they will interpret what we do or say with their child’s mentality. Every parent who loves their children wants them to remember them well, but still we have to discipline them at times, and this they will remember too. But with enough love they will see the balance when they are old enough to think it through. We parents have to wait a while for that reward though.
But here’s the kicker: just as I remember the first time I tied my shoes, I’m pretty sure she’ll remember it too. And the most precious thing for me is that I will be there in her memories of it, and she will remember that I love her long after I am gone.
I hope they still have shoes with shoe laces when she grows up.
I hope she’ll be able to smile at the memory when she teaches her children, and she will see my face and remember me with fondness.
©Dan Bode 2009
“Sure.”, I said.
She happily went to work tying my shoe. It occurred to me that she didn’t really have any shoes with laces. Hers have buckles or Velcro. Don’t get me wrong, I think Velcro is one of the greatest inventions of all time. It’s right up there with duct tape. The thing is that nowadays I’m pretty sure the only kids who know how to tie knots anymore are Boy Scouts. Knots can be pretty useful. They should have classes on knots in school.
“Ok Papa I’m done.”
She handed me back my shoe with a knot that I’m sure bore a remarkable resemblance to the Gordian knot that Alexander the Great had to contend with just before he went on to conquer Asia Minor. He used a sword to deal with his. I always appreciated his straightforward approach to that. I was afraid I might have to contend with this in a similar manner, although I could probably do it with scissors, even though I have a friend who collects real swords and has a few he would let me borrow.
For someone who didn’t know how to tie shoes she had done a pretty remarkable job. The laces looped under and around each other with knots tied randomly amongst them. Then they were looped haphazardly around the area where the laces are strung through the holes in the shoe and tied again. Have you ever seen a handful of earthworms all intertwined in a mass that looks like one big earthworm all wrapped up in itself?
That’s the best description of what it looked like.
She grabbed my other shoe and began to work on that one.
“Uh sweetie, that’s not really the way you tie a shoe.”
“Well I don’t really know how to tie a shoe. Would you show me?”
I was at one of those points in the day where I actually didn’t have anything that needed doing, and, after realizing that this was indeed the case and my time was actually free for a while, I said, “Sure”.
So I proceeded to show her how to make the first knot, which she had already proven pretty adept at, and then the first loop, and then wrapping the lace around the first loop and pulling it through. She then tried it herself and didn’t quite get it right, but it was a very good first attempt. I showed her again what needed to be done, telling her in the process, “I didn’t get it right the first time either. It took me a little while before I got it.”
Of course, immediately after I said that she got it.
I looked down at the shoe, and realized that it was tied correctly!
“Hey! You did it!” I said.
She looked at the shoe with eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise.
Then she looked at me and smiled.
“I did it!” she yelled and clapped her hands.
“Very good! It took me a lot longer than that! Good job!” I said. You’re supposed to make a big deal when kids do something right and act excited, but I was really excited about it! I’d forgotten how much fun it is to see a child’s face light up like that when they come to understand something good for the first time.
“I want to do it again! Can I do it again?”
“Sure!”
So she did it again, and again, and again. She got it right every time, refining her method a little more each time.
Then she turned it around on me.
“Ok, now let’s pretend that you don’t know how to tie a shoe.” She said, “You have to do it wrong and then I’ll teach you how to do it right. You have to get it wrong six times ok?” she said.
“Ok.”
So I pretended to mess up tying the shoe laces.
“That’s good but you didn’t get it quite right.” She said in her best teacher’s voice. “You need to make sure you put the loop through here like this.”
We went through six variations of messing up the tying of the laces until I was allowed to get it right.
“You did it! Good job!”
It occurred to me that the “Tying of the Shoes” is kind of a milestone in childhood. I’ve never really asked anyone else about this, but it turned out to be a big deal for me. To this day I remember the first time I tied my own shoe without any assistance. I was in kindergarten at the time so I was Kaya’s age when it happened. I remember being so surprised. I was almost afraid to untie it to try again for fear I would be stranded with flopping shoe laces. I practiced and practiced without success and then at some point for no apparent reason it all just came together at one specific moment, and there it was! A tied shoe lace! Will you look at that! One more step toward independence complete. I think it was about that time I started thinking about trying to ride a bicycle.
It wasn’t until the next morning that it really hit me about exactly what had happened.
I was getting ready for work brushing my teeth. I could hear Kaya in the living room showing her father how she could tie shoes.
“Good job Kaya! I’m so proud of you!” he said.
“Papa taught me!” she said.
When I heard those words it all crystallized for me. You see I know that my daughter had been working with her and teaching her how to do it before this, but it just hadn’t come to that final moment. I was given the privilege of seeing everyone else’s efforts come to the moment of fruition. I didn’t really teach her so much as she just came to that final stage of learning. I was just a witness to it.
In that moment I became acutely aware of the memories we give our children. There is no way to determine what will stick in their minds, or how they will interpret what we do or say with their child’s mentality. Every parent who loves their children wants them to remember them well, but still we have to discipline them at times, and this they will remember too. But with enough love they will see the balance when they are old enough to think it through. We parents have to wait a while for that reward though.
But here’s the kicker: just as I remember the first time I tied my shoes, I’m pretty sure she’ll remember it too. And the most precious thing for me is that I will be there in her memories of it, and she will remember that I love her long after I am gone.
I hope they still have shoes with shoe laces when she grows up.
I hope she’ll be able to smile at the memory when she teaches her children, and she will see my face and remember me with fondness.
©Dan Bode 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Peter and Telemachus - Men of Purpose
A few years ago a friend of mine did a devotional at a men’s breakfast. In that message he asked two questions:
1. Who is God to you?
2. What will you do for Him?
I came away from there asking myself those questions, and I came to realize that, for me, one is dependant on the other.
Who God is to me will determine, in the end, what I will do for Him.
It also begs another question: Who am I to God?
This latter question seems the easiest one to answer. He is pretty clear in His word about my importance to Him.
To God, I am worth His presence at the beginning, during every moment of my life, and at the end. To God, I am worth allowing into His home, His heart, His plans. To God, I am someone worth dying for, and dying with. I really have no desire to question why this is so; I’m just glad it is.
So I come back to the original questions in this context, and find a much richer answer.
I must first acknowledge that I cannot hope to match the devotion of God. I am human, and a sinner. I am imperfect, and can only gain perfection through Him anyway. I am an unfinished work, not yet ready for the gallery of finished products.
I have to look at history for examples of others whose devotion to Him was evident in their lives. Jesus’ disciple Peter is one of my favorites. Always rebellious, a storm waiting to be unleashed, his pride and anger showing their faces all through his time with Christ. Yet, with all his faults, all of which Christ was keenly aware, this uneducated fisherman is the only human to know what it was like to walk on water. He was the one to leave the other 11 disciples behind in the boat on a stormy sea as they watched in dumbfounded fascination while He went to meet their Lord on the water. His actions that day came about as a result of who God was to him. He acknowledged, for a little while at least, that Christ had authority over nature. For Christ he was willing to say, “If He says I can, then I know it’s true that I can walk on water.”
Who God was to him, led Peter to do what we see as impossible.
But there is another that I’d like to tell you about. His name was Telemachus.
So take my hand, and let us go back in time. Rest with me as we sit on a grassy hill overlooking a small settlement of monks. Watch with me as we see his story unfold.
Telemachus was a monk who lived in the hills somewhere in Asia Minor. He was content to tend the needs of his monastery, living a quiet life. In fact, we come upon him tending the garden, on his knees, dirt on his robe and hands. His is the life of the ascetic, serving God in a simple life with few needs. We see him sit back and wipe his brow with the back of his hand. He looks heavenward with a startled look on his face and frowns. “Rome?” he says aloud, though we hear no one else speak nor do we see anyone else near. “I know not why, but I will go.” He says.
He goes to his small, spartan room and gathers a few things. He stops at the kitchen to take food for his journey, and walks away from the life he has known comfortably for years. His journey to Rome is long, but God supplies him, and he arrives in good health, still unsure of the reason for his presence there. It is a time of festival, for the Romans are celebrating their victory over the Goths, and there are entertainers for the crowds and free bread being distributed throughout the city. Telemachus is swept along toward the coliseum, possibly unaware of what he is about to see. He finds himself amidst a sea of people, and though he did not intend to go there, he finds himself in the stands of the coliseum. He is unsure of what is about to occur, but he can feel the malevolent hunger of the crowd, and it fills him with foreboding. Here, put your hand against his chest, feel his heart thudding with anxiety. He still does not know why he is here, only that he must be.
Out on the sand of the arena two men walk out to stand before the emperor’s box. Raising their swords they offer the gladiator’s salute, “We who are about to die salute thee!”
With that they turn to face each other.
It is here, with horrifying clarity, that Telemachus understands the purpose of this stadium, and his purpose for being here. Feel his heart again. It’s alright; he is unaware of our presence. It beats slow and steady now. He knows his purpose. He will fulfill his call.
“In the name of Christ forbear!” he cries.
His lone voice is drowned out by the noise of the boisterous crowd.
He begins to run down the steps to the arena, yelling frantically “In the name of Christ forbear!”
He remains unnoticed as the crowd continues to focus on the unfolding spectacle in the sand.
He leaps the barrier to land in the arena, and runs across the sand to stand between the gladiators as they circle each other. Raising his hands he cries again, “In the name of Christ forbear!”
The fighters shove him aside trying to continue their fight. We can see some confusion on the faces in the crowd. They are not sure if this is part of the game or not. Some laugh at the little man in the worn robe, but others do not share the humor. Cries of “Kill him!”, and “Get him out of the way!” are heard.
Telemachus knows his purpose. He will not be put aside. He jumps in between the two fighters once again and cries, “In the name of Christ forbear!”
The gladiators react in their frustration and one of them thrusts his gladius through Telemachus’ chest, piercing his heart. For some reason the crowd that seconds before had demanded his death now sits in stunned silence. As Telemachus’ body slides off the sword and falls to the sand we can here him whisper, “In the name of Christ forbear….”, and so he dies.
It is said that the crowd left the coliseum in silence, and that this was the last gladiator event in the Roman arena.
Another account says that Telemachus died instead when the crowd stoned him to death for interrupting their sport. Both accounts are consistent in saying that he died on the sands of the arena, and that his death there led to the ending of the games.
In either event, we have seen how he was only one man standing against an entire society because God called him to do it.
Because God was Telemachus’ king, he was willing to give his life for Him.
Who God was to Telemachus determined what he did for Him.
One person can change the world.
It does not always happen in big ways. Not all of us will have a wide audience. In fact, most of the time we each change just a small part of our world, but each of us builds on the influence of the other, and often unknowingly contribute to the greater effect. We become a small part in a huge intricate latticework that God is constructing. The importance of our place in it can not be diminished for the simple reason that it is God who put us there. We fit where we fit because God is who He is to each of us, and He has made us each uniquely suited to the need we fill. Even our faults are incorporated into the greater picture. One of the greatest testimonies to the love of God is that He is able and willing to use and love us despite our greatest flaws.
Does this mean that we are to find a sword to fall on in order to honor His call on each of us? No, He has not called us all to do this, although there are those who will. I am called to be known as His child wherever I am. At work I must do my job diligently and well. At home I must treat my wife and children in the way He would have me treat them, with all the love, tenderness and respect I know how to give. I must be the same person out in the world as I am in the comfort of my church.
If God is the loving God to me that I know He is, then I must determine to show that love to all who know me, by loving them and protecting them in every way possible. Whether they know Him or not, they must know Him through me.
Peter and Telemachus were just two simple men, but look what God did with them once they understood their Purpose!
©Dan Bode 2003
1. Who is God to you?
2. What will you do for Him?
I came away from there asking myself those questions, and I came to realize that, for me, one is dependant on the other.
Who God is to me will determine, in the end, what I will do for Him.
It also begs another question: Who am I to God?
This latter question seems the easiest one to answer. He is pretty clear in His word about my importance to Him.
To God, I am worth His presence at the beginning, during every moment of my life, and at the end. To God, I am worth allowing into His home, His heart, His plans. To God, I am someone worth dying for, and dying with. I really have no desire to question why this is so; I’m just glad it is.
So I come back to the original questions in this context, and find a much richer answer.
I must first acknowledge that I cannot hope to match the devotion of God. I am human, and a sinner. I am imperfect, and can only gain perfection through Him anyway. I am an unfinished work, not yet ready for the gallery of finished products.
I have to look at history for examples of others whose devotion to Him was evident in their lives. Jesus’ disciple Peter is one of my favorites. Always rebellious, a storm waiting to be unleashed, his pride and anger showing their faces all through his time with Christ. Yet, with all his faults, all of which Christ was keenly aware, this uneducated fisherman is the only human to know what it was like to walk on water. He was the one to leave the other 11 disciples behind in the boat on a stormy sea as they watched in dumbfounded fascination while He went to meet their Lord on the water. His actions that day came about as a result of who God was to him. He acknowledged, for a little while at least, that Christ had authority over nature. For Christ he was willing to say, “If He says I can, then I know it’s true that I can walk on water.”
Who God was to him, led Peter to do what we see as impossible.
But there is another that I’d like to tell you about. His name was Telemachus.
So take my hand, and let us go back in time. Rest with me as we sit on a grassy hill overlooking a small settlement of monks. Watch with me as we see his story unfold.
Telemachus was a monk who lived in the hills somewhere in Asia Minor. He was content to tend the needs of his monastery, living a quiet life. In fact, we come upon him tending the garden, on his knees, dirt on his robe and hands. His is the life of the ascetic, serving God in a simple life with few needs. We see him sit back and wipe his brow with the back of his hand. He looks heavenward with a startled look on his face and frowns. “Rome?” he says aloud, though we hear no one else speak nor do we see anyone else near. “I know not why, but I will go.” He says.
He goes to his small, spartan room and gathers a few things. He stops at the kitchen to take food for his journey, and walks away from the life he has known comfortably for years. His journey to Rome is long, but God supplies him, and he arrives in good health, still unsure of the reason for his presence there. It is a time of festival, for the Romans are celebrating their victory over the Goths, and there are entertainers for the crowds and free bread being distributed throughout the city. Telemachus is swept along toward the coliseum, possibly unaware of what he is about to see. He finds himself amidst a sea of people, and though he did not intend to go there, he finds himself in the stands of the coliseum. He is unsure of what is about to occur, but he can feel the malevolent hunger of the crowd, and it fills him with foreboding. Here, put your hand against his chest, feel his heart thudding with anxiety. He still does not know why he is here, only that he must be.
Out on the sand of the arena two men walk out to stand before the emperor’s box. Raising their swords they offer the gladiator’s salute, “We who are about to die salute thee!”
With that they turn to face each other.
It is here, with horrifying clarity, that Telemachus understands the purpose of this stadium, and his purpose for being here. Feel his heart again. It’s alright; he is unaware of our presence. It beats slow and steady now. He knows his purpose. He will fulfill his call.
“In the name of Christ forbear!” he cries.
His lone voice is drowned out by the noise of the boisterous crowd.
He begins to run down the steps to the arena, yelling frantically “In the name of Christ forbear!”
He remains unnoticed as the crowd continues to focus on the unfolding spectacle in the sand.
He leaps the barrier to land in the arena, and runs across the sand to stand between the gladiators as they circle each other. Raising his hands he cries again, “In the name of Christ forbear!”
The fighters shove him aside trying to continue their fight. We can see some confusion on the faces in the crowd. They are not sure if this is part of the game or not. Some laugh at the little man in the worn robe, but others do not share the humor. Cries of “Kill him!”, and “Get him out of the way!” are heard.
Telemachus knows his purpose. He will not be put aside. He jumps in between the two fighters once again and cries, “In the name of Christ forbear!”
The gladiators react in their frustration and one of them thrusts his gladius through Telemachus’ chest, piercing his heart. For some reason the crowd that seconds before had demanded his death now sits in stunned silence. As Telemachus’ body slides off the sword and falls to the sand we can here him whisper, “In the name of Christ forbear….”, and so he dies.
It is said that the crowd left the coliseum in silence, and that this was the last gladiator event in the Roman arena.
Another account says that Telemachus died instead when the crowd stoned him to death for interrupting their sport. Both accounts are consistent in saying that he died on the sands of the arena, and that his death there led to the ending of the games.
In either event, we have seen how he was only one man standing against an entire society because God called him to do it.
Because God was Telemachus’ king, he was willing to give his life for Him.
Who God was to Telemachus determined what he did for Him.
One person can change the world.
It does not always happen in big ways. Not all of us will have a wide audience. In fact, most of the time we each change just a small part of our world, but each of us builds on the influence of the other, and often unknowingly contribute to the greater effect. We become a small part in a huge intricate latticework that God is constructing. The importance of our place in it can not be diminished for the simple reason that it is God who put us there. We fit where we fit because God is who He is to each of us, and He has made us each uniquely suited to the need we fill. Even our faults are incorporated into the greater picture. One of the greatest testimonies to the love of God is that He is able and willing to use and love us despite our greatest flaws.
Does this mean that we are to find a sword to fall on in order to honor His call on each of us? No, He has not called us all to do this, although there are those who will. I am called to be known as His child wherever I am. At work I must do my job diligently and well. At home I must treat my wife and children in the way He would have me treat them, with all the love, tenderness and respect I know how to give. I must be the same person out in the world as I am in the comfort of my church.
If God is the loving God to me that I know He is, then I must determine to show that love to all who know me, by loving them and protecting them in every way possible. Whether they know Him or not, they must know Him through me.
Peter and Telemachus were just two simple men, but look what God did with them once they understood their Purpose!
©Dan Bode 2003
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