Tick

For a little over a decade the Nave clan has been a two-dog family. Our Boarder Collie, Cinder (also known as Fish Stick on account of her fowl breath) was hand picked on a farm seven counties from our own. She was one of ten in that litter and everything about her adoption into our family was intentional. She arrived to a home newly prepared with a kennel, fluffy pillow, and plush toys…as well as owners who had read a manual on how to care for her unique needs. Our Black Lab, Pearl (also known as Puma, Garbage Disposal, Prewash, Bulldozer, Stealth, Biological Tripping Hazard, and Demon) entered our family under very different circumstances. She was spotted on a bitter cold January day, standing disoriented in the center of a busy intersection. With thoughts of rescuing the puppy only from her current peril, she was whisked into The Loser Cruiser (our mini-van). Not looking to extend our family, multiple attempts were made to find another arrangement…each of which failed miserably. For better or worse, this disoriented mess was ours and she found herself to be a Nave at an extremely chaotic juncture in our lives. We weren’t ready for her and as a result of the abuse she was subjected to by her previous owners, she wasn’t ready for us. A mere few days after her capture, Garrett was scheduled for surgery. Like most surgeries of this nature, the recovery process was grueling. Pearl found safety next to him as she sensed that he had no power to inflict harm on her in his stupor. As providence would have it, these two spent the next week and a half healing together.

Despite our dogs equal treatment henceforth; remnants of their initial days on earth emerge in their personalities. I saw this no clearer then in an incidence last fall. Like most mornings at Mom and Dad’s, I awoke with a black lab stretched out and pressed against the length of my back and a small collie sharing my pillow. A gliding motion of my fingers through their fur stirred a happy tapping of tails welcoming the new day. The gliding was interrupted by a bump on the scruff of Cinder’s neck. After closer examination, the said bump was confirmed to be a tick. I announced my find to her and like any good doctor, explained the removal process. An ideal patient, she followed my instructions verbatim, lying quietly as the extraction ensued. In under a minute the parasite was free of her flesh and flushed promptly down the toilet.

Returning to the originally scheduled affection fest, I happened upon a similar bump on Pearl. The same declaration was made over her and I went about my business of removing the critter. Pearl wanted to help, actually she was insistent. She flung her head over her shoulder and began nibbling at the surgical area. Amused, I pushed her head out of the way and reassured her that I had everything under control. I evidently wasn’t convincing enough because she promptly returned to her self-biting behavior. I fought with her on the issue for a while and but then resolved that neither of us was getting anywhere. I ceased my assistance and verbalized that she was welcome to do it by herself. Five minutes passed, then ten. I watched in pity as she wore herself out. At the fifteen-minute mark, she laid her head down in utter defeat. “Want my help now?” I inquired. Convinced that she understood, Pearl’s body went limp in surrender.

Two dogs, both from intelligent breeds…why the stark difference in behavior? I could be totally wrong in this, but I wonder if Cinder is trusting because she has never had a need that wasn’t met. She has no reason to fear. Contrary to this, Pearl learned to be the lord of her own life. She needed to take control to regulate her own existence under the abusive hand of her previous owner. While there is plenty of evidence in favor of her trusting us, her pattern of behavior is stuck.

I run into Pearl like humans daily. They have been shaped by the hurt in their lives and therefore carry deep-seated attitudes that usher them to orient themselves inward for protection. Much like my lab, they wear themselves out with their tenuous control. I am not absolved from this group.

I have a tick and I’ve known about it for years. It drains me of my peace and joy. It hinders my ability to love fully and thus limits my relationships. God has radically awaken me to the multiple layers of controlling, grasping ‘noise’ in my life that creates a defensive posture through which I attack a problem instead of allow Him to intervene. I’ve been biting at myself senselessly. This life stealing sin still resides and I acknowledge the insufficiency of my own resources and the inadequacy of my ability to maintain order in my life. I am tired, God is not… and so I ask with all the heart I can muster “Free me from care of myself.”

Lay Down

Several weeks ago I had the opportunity to watch some of our nations leading trainers showcase their finest companions in the Bluegrass Classic Sheepdog Trails. The objective of both master and beast was to rally a small flock of sheep through a series of obstacles. The communication method for doing so ranged from a succession of whistles to animated hand gestures. While a majority of these cryptic messages were lost to my untrained eyes and ears, the universal cue to stop was unmistakable… “Lay Down!” If you are unfamiliar with the breed, a Boarder Collie is wired to be on the move, therefore watching one of these creatures respond to such a request is comical. While the older dogs were more apt to comply, the less experienced ones simply disregarded the command... after all they were on a mission and lingering for any span of time would be nonsensical. Despite the fact that the puppies were covering more ground, they were often doing so in the wrong direction.

For better or worse, my immediate family is comprised of five Type-A personalities. While most of us have mellowed over the years, it is still counterintuitive for us to remain stationary. The fears linked to non-motion are innumerable. I fear stagnation. I fear appearing lazy. And probably the heavies of which, I fear losing the remaining sense that I have any control over my life. In love, my gentle Master has recently challenged my puppy nature. Sometimes I need only wait a few more minutes, in other instances I sit for days. I have recognized that when I fall short in waiting, I miss the joy of watching Him work things out on my behalf. His fingerprints are so much prettier then the smudging I often leave behind…and so with a deep breath and a few butterflies, I am going to go Lay Down for a while.

Life Without Limbs

I still haven't figured out how to post a link correctly. But until I do....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mu9FPb-TZuk

Enjoy.

Thicker Skin?

I encountered an angry man on Friday. I haven’t the foggiest idea why he was so stirred up, but my mere presence acted as a trigger for his eruption. To the best of my ability I tried to listen, speak slowly and answer with gentleness. Despite my attempt to defuse the situation, his anger continued to spiral upwards. When he had escalated to a point that I felt threatened, he finally began to back off. He swiftly turned, grabbed a briefcase from his car and entered a local business. I remained frozen in the parking lot. Part of me was immobilized by the flood of emotions that were welling up in my core…the other part of me thought that if I was stationary long enough, he would return and we could repair what had transpired over the last few minutes. When it was apparent that he wasn’t going to come back, I retreated to a nearby park.

After I got to the point that I was able to release him back to God, I became rather frustrated with myself. In terms of opposition and attack, my little encounter would barely be a blip on the spectrum scale of what others have endured. And yet, for all intensive purposes, I was rendered useless for the next two hours. While I am aware that my highly wired INFJ personality is a massive contributing factor to this, I found it discouraging that a minor event such as this one could shift my demeanor so dramatically. My analytic side kicked in and I began foreshadowing how much my tendency to be easily moved emotionally would affect any ministry that I partner with. Acknowledging the destructive quality in feeling too much, I reasoned that a need for thicker skin was in order and thus I placed an appeal for before God. His response over the last couple of days has challenged the wisdom of my request and so I retract it. As much as I’d like to avoid the negative baggage that comes with feeling in this world, the cost of callousness is more then I am willing to pay. Let me be moved.

Seeds

I bought some seeds a couple weeks ago. While I posses no ground to plant them in, I like the idea of having them. They are currently fastened to my bathroom mirror, (actually the packet they are contained in is taped there…but you get the point.) Would these small little wonders ever to meet the earth, they would spring up as sunflowers.

I have always been under the impression that the name for these brilliant plants stemmed from their paralleled appearance to the sun. Wikipedia has been so kind as to set the record strait:

“At sunrise, the faces of most sunflowers are turned towards the east. Over the course of the day, they follow the sun from east to west, while at night they return to an eastward orientation.”

This sun following pattern continues for as long as the flower grows. At the end of this stage, the stem will stiffen causing the bloom to always be oriented in the eastward direction.

Oh, to get following the Son on that level. To rise with Him, track His every movement, and with great enthusiasm return to the starting position so that not a drop of His light is missed the next day.

I am fascinated that a flower in the process of dying turns east. The voice of J.D. Walt rings in my ears, “Look to the east, He’s coming back.” While the theological soundness of this could be questioned…I picture a sea of saints, who spent their living days soaking in the Son, facing east. Waiting, worshiping. He’s coming back. Earth will be restored and they have a front row seat.

As a random side note…and something for your head to play with… a wild sunflower typically does not turn toward the sun and will orient it self in many directions when mature. Despite this, its leaves will flow suit with the tame flowers. Deep down, I wonder if a small part of everyone yearns to become aliened with His order. Just a thought…

Rehearsal

The Nave family’s nomadic lifestyle has offered me the privileged of sitting under a number of remarkable preachers, teachers and mentors. Of all the sermons I’ve heard on the cross and Christ’s resurrection, none have stirred my spirit more then a series Jon Weece taught nearly five summers ago. He prompted me to take a closer look at Feasts of the Hebrew nation. They are drenched in love and promises.

I needed to be reminded of these riches this week. I lamented to a friend this afternoon that I am weary of lent. There is heaviness around campus, particularly in chapel, that I can no longer endure. I’m ready for Easter and my heart can’t wait till Sunday. If you too are feeling weighty, I pray the following snippet will help lop off the gloom. Celebrate my friends. The tomb has been empty for years.

The Feasts functioned in the same way our holidays do. They were used to eat, remember and anticipate something bigger to come. Their word for feast is best translated as a “rehearsal.” Leviticus 23 sets the foundation for explaining some of the larger “rehearsals” practiced by the Israelites. The Feast of Passover, Unleavened Bread and First Fruits were packaged together.

-Passover was to be celebrated on the 14th day of the 7th month (Nisan.) Four pictures can be drawn out of this the first Passover (Exodus 12). First, God was attempting to set His people free from slavery and bondage. Second, God was willing to kill all of the first-born sons of Egypt to accomplish this redemptive plan. Third, God would cover and mark His people with the blood of a lamb to protect them. And fourth, all of this would happen in the darkness of the night as the death angle passed over. By the time Jesus shows up on the scene, Passover had had 1,400 years to develop into a beautiful and significant feast. Josephesus, a Jewish historian, tells us that 250,000 – 400,000 lambs, who had been born and raised in Bethlehem, were sacrificed on the alter during this festival. The smell of burning animals never left the nostrils of the Hebrew people. It was a constant sensory reminder of the smell and stench of death and sin. Visually there was so much blood coming out of the lambs that is was literally ankle deep in the temple courtyards and flowed down into the city streets. There is nothing to be romanticized about the Feast of Passover. One could say that the overarching theme of this Feast is the people asking God for deliverance from death.

- Unleavened Bread was scheduled on the Jewish calendar to take place on the 15th of Nisan. This feast was set up as a way of asking God for bread from the earth. As farmers, the Hebrew people linked bread with life. So what are they really asking is for God to bring life out of the earth.

- The Feast of First Fruits was to be celebrated the next Sunday following the Feast of Unleavened Bread. During this time people would bring the entire yielding of their first harvest to God. They offered it to Him as a sign that they trusted Him to meet their every need. Come hail storm, locus or drought. As Jehovah-jireh, they trusted Him to provide. The theme for this feast would be summarized as “God, keep us alive.”

In the final week of Jesus’ life, the 14th fell on a Friday. Recall that the Hebrew nation measured time by the moon, not the sun. Their days’ ran from sunset to sunset. So for all intensive purposes, Passover began on what we would call Thursday night at 6:00. This means that Friday night beginning at 6:00, marked the beginning of The Feast of Unleavened Bread. The very next Sunday, for which the Feast of First Fruits would have been celebrated, happened to be the very next day. As mentioned previously, the Hebrew nation functioned on a lunar calendar, and therefore lost 11 days a year – meaning that every 4 years they would have a leap month. All this is to say that having these three Feasts lined up back-to-back would only happen once in a lifetime.

So on Friday the 14th, the entire Hebrew nation is gathering together to celebrate Passover. While sacrificing lambs they are asking God to deliver them from death. Meanwhile, as the skies begin to turn dark, Jesus, the first born of all creation, the Bread of Life, the lamb who was born in Bethlehem, is on a cross. Unbeknownst to them, God is listening and responding to their prayers.

The next day, Saturday, is the Feast of Unleavened Bread. The entire Hebrew nation is asking for God to bring life out of the earth. Meanwhile, Jesus is being put into the ground. If you’ll recall, all the gospel writers are clear in telling us that there was a rush to get Him in the ground by sundown. Why? May I suggest that God wanted His Son in the ground by sunset because sunset marked the beginning of a new day, Saturday, and the beginning of a new feast? Don’t make the mistake of saying that Jesus was buried that day. No friend, Jesus was planted that day. Do you remember what Jesus said in His ministry? “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit (John 12).” The entire Hebrew nation is asking for God to bring life out of the earth and God is planting the bread of life into the ground.

Sunday marks the Feast of First Fruits. What day does Jesus walk out of the grave? Sunday. Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 15:20, “But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”

I case I lost you in any of that, here is the Clift Note Version: Friday, as the people are praying “God deliver us from death,” Jesus is dying. On Saturday, as Jesus is being planted in the ground on Unleavened Bread, the people are praying, “God bring life out of the earth.” And on Sunday the people are praying, “God keep us alive,” and Jesus is walking out of His tomb.

The God we serve renders me speechless.

No Greater Love

Years ago, Kanakuk Kamps created a sub-camp system called Kids Across America. Their vision was to revolutionize inner-city America through empowering their children with the message of Christ. I had the opportunity to spend four months working with urban youth from NYC, Chicago, San Fransisco, and countless other metropolises. Like most volunteer experiences, these youngsters added more to my life than I could have ever offered them. One of their priceless gifts woke me up this morning.

This was the best version of the song I could find on-line. It is a little long, but the meat of it starts at about three minute mark. I pray that the words wash over you. Be refreshed friend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FgpRUhQVKA