Nose

We've had many serious blog posts recently. So... here's a silly one.

It's one about... my Nose.

My nose has been in this mysterious pain ever since I returned from the US. There were many theories about what the pain is: some say cut; some say crack; I've even considered a tumor! But today, (I think) I have figured it out. It is..... *drum roll* A pimple, on the INSIDE of my nose. Wonderful. Un-squeez-able, Un-ignor-able. But fortunately, Un-see-able. Out of sight is at least partially out of mind! :)

Cyrus

House of Cards

...one must take 'sent to try us' the right way. God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial he makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.

CS Lewis, A Grief Observed

Sigh

Sin

Sigh.. meant to post things more often but as it is..

Anyway.. You know right, we always talk about sin and say that there is no such thing as a big sin or a small sin. The wages of sin is death - all have the same results.. and so on (Ermm.. this will be the basis on which I discuss, if anyone has a different starting point, then there is no need to read on further). Which was why I got quite a shock this morning, when I read Ezekiel 16. Somewhere in that chapter, God condemned Israel for being more abominable, more sinful than Sodom, saying that compared to Israel, Sodom was actually righteous. Now, what was shocking was not the degree of Israel's sin, but that there was actually a comparison made..

Here, a disclaimer will be made. This is not meant to justify any "small" sin. If the impression is given otherwise, it is a false impression.

Then, another verse came to mind. Can't remember where it is from, but it says that sin "when it is full blown" will cause death. This is somewhat different from Romans 3:23 which says that the wages of sin is death (not contradictory of course). But it suggests that sin has "stages".

Of course, we would recall our Lord's teaching about sin, how lust is adultery and hatred is murder.. I know, often we take it to mean that it is the same thing. But I beg to disagree. I think that it means that the "nature" of sin is the same. Let anger develop long enough, it will be murder.. But we can still say that anger is still a "less mature" form of sin than murder.

Now, if this is true, one question remain. How then is God fair to judge people so strictly. If sin is not yet mature, then.. maybe God shouldn't judge it with death? One answer is of course, that of the perfect nature of God. That has been adequately covered by others. I think, the other reason is that eternity is a very long time. Give whatever small sin you have that long time, it will be Hell in the truest sense to you and to others at the "end" of it. Whatever we do not correct will be carried forward. Which is why we need a new nature, we get a new nature when we profess Christ as our Lord.. Carry forward perfection for eternity, we go from strength to strength..

CS Lewis compared eternity and our lives as a plane / cube is to a line, rather than mere extension of time. The final shape or form of the structure will depend on the line itself. Any little damage will be carried forward to an extent we cannot imagine..

So.. yup :) A Sunday thought :P

Just wanted to share the Joy of His Love. This is from an email I received a while ago.


17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order.

But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content.

Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written."I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?



p.s.: The title was left intentionally blank because i felt no space could contain or describe His Love.