Tag: Resurrection

Healing in this Age and Fresh Octopus in the Next

In recent months we have been witnesses to a quiet miracle. One of the deacons of our home church almost died when a car hit him while he was riding his bike to work. But God has not only brought him back from the brink of death but also stunned the doctors with the speed of his recovery.

Initially, things didn’t look good. Bryan* suffered dozens of fractures, brain swelling, and lots of internal bleeding. For several weeks it wasn’t clear if he was going to pull through. Bryan was one of the co-leaders of the home group we’ve been a part of during this season, so we had a close-up perspective of how everything was developing.

First, I must say that it is times like this when you truly witness the power of the local church. Our church immediately rallied to provide meals, childcare, and other help for Bryan’s family. The meal schedule was completely filled up for weeks on end within just a couple of hours of it being sent out. And brothers and sisters from the church regularly came by to visit and encourage Bryan and his wife, who was spending most days by her husband’s side in the ICU. Those who doubt the love and power of a local church need to see it in action when there’s some kind of emergency like this.

I was able to visit the ICU several days after the accident. Bryan was mostly under sedation, had a trach in his throat, and was covered in bandages, bruises, dried blood, and splints. At that point he was showing some response to male voices, so his wife encouraged those of us visiting to talk with him and to sing a hymn. I didn’t notice any response during that first visit, but we prayed hard that he would soon be able to breathe on his own as well as fight off the pneumonia that was getting worse. His wife, for her part, was remarkably steady and joyful, clearly being sustained by the prayers of God’s people.

The next time I visited was about a week and a half later. He still had the trach in his throat and looked largely in the same condition, but he was a little more alert. He was off and on able to make eye contact, squeeze hands, and give a thumbs-up. It was heartening to have even this level of basic communication with him again. Amazingly, it seemed like he had pulled through and was going to make it. But he would need many weeks, if not months, of slow recovery.

I came back to see Bryan again one week later. I was stunned. It was his first day sitting up in a recliner chair next to his bed. And he was fully and remarkably conversant, even though it was clear that his injuries were affecting his memory somewhat. Sometimes he would ask the same question he had asked earlier, or get confused about certain details. But the two of us spoke in depth for about an hour and a half. Most of the time was Bryan telling me how encouraged he was by God’s goodness toward him and his family.

Bryan is a chef by profession and in previous seasons we had spoken of this passion of his, how he felt like God had given him a particular delight in making amazing food and serving others in this way. We had even spoken before of how these things might be reflected in the New Heavens and New Earth. How might a chef occupy himself in the new creation? I decided to turn the conversation back toward this topic and to ask Bryan about the first thing he would do in the New Jerusalem after spending time with Jesus face to face. I couldn’t help but laugh at his answer.

“Fresh octopus! I’m going to cook the freshest and most amazing octopus.” Bryan’s blue eyes gleamed and his head shook as he said it. “There’s nothing like it.”

Why not? Who’s to say the New Heavens and New Earth won’t have fresh octopus for those the king has called to be the chefs of his kingdom? And if it can be stunningly delicious in this age, then just imagine the festival of flavors to come with it in the next. I told Bryan that I would gladly take a break from perusing the New Jerusalem library’s history section to join him for this particular seafood of the resurrection.

Just a couple weeks later Bryan was out of the hospital and back home. This past month he’s been able to attend our home group again and we’ve been able to talk about what he remembers about his time in the hospital. He can’t recall most of it, including our conversation about fresh octopus in the resurrection. But he did have a good laugh when I told him about what his answer had been to my question.

The doctors are stunned. Bryan’s body naturally should not have healed in the time that it did. It seems that God responded to the countless prayers being made on his behalf by allowing his healing to take place at 1.5 or 2x speed.

We who are Christians should be overjoyed by this, but we should not be surprised by it. As Lewis points out in his book, Miracles, the creator has certain rights over his creation which means he is free to alter the speed, scale, or direction of the processes he has created whenever he wants to. So water becomes wine instantly, rather than this needing the many months normally required. Storms are calmed at a word, rather than slowly dissipating as the weather system moves on. And the broken bodies of bike-riding deacons heal themselves at rates that confound modern medicine.

One day death itself will move in reverse direction and dry bones will put on flesh and come alive. On that day, it is said that there will be a feast. As for me and Bryan, we’ll be keeping an eye out for a particular dish – freshly prepared octopus.

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*Names have been changed for privacy

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Every Language Has a Chance at Immortality

Every language is learnt by the young from the old, so that every living language is the embodiment of a tradition. That tradition is in principle immortal. Languages change, as they pass from the lips of one generation to the next, but there is nothing about this process of transmission which makes for decay or extinction. Like life itself, each new generation can receive the gift of its language afresh. And so it is that languages, unlike any of the people who speak them, need never grow infirm, or die.

Every language has a chance at immortality, but this is not to say that it will survive for ever. Genes too, and the species they encode, are immortal; but extinctions are a commonplace of palaeontology. Likewise, the actual lifespans of language communities vary enormously. The annals of language history are full of languages that have died out, traditions that have come to an end, leaving no speakers at all.

Ostler, Empires of the Word, pp. 7-8

Even more than the linguist, the Christian knows that every language has a chance at immortality. The presence of the world’s diverse languages in the Son of Man vision of Daniel 7 and the heavenly throne room vision of Revelation 7 imply that many languages will indeed be immortal, living forever on the lips of their redeemed speakers. This makes practical sense since no one human language is sufficient on its own to describe God in all his wonder. In fact, we may need to invent some new ones to account for the new experiences of finally seeing God face to face, having friends who are angels, possessing spiritual bodies, etc.

What do we make of the languages that have gone extinct in world history? If we take the promises of “all languages” literally, then we would need to insist that there were believers somehow present in all of those language groups in time past. More likely, the “all” of these passages is symbolic, meaning that the vast majority of the world’s languages will indeed be represented in heaven. A third intriguing possibility would be that of language resurrection, where there is a return in the new heavens and the new earth of languages long dead, just as my kids and I hope for a return of dinosaurs, wooly mammoths, and giant sloths.

After all, if we’ve got billions and billions of years to enjoy, I would certainly sign up for a class on old Sumerian were the library of New Jerusalem to offer such a course.

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Mama Lost Her Gall Bladder in Turkey

“Mama, why aren’t you eating the naan and kebab?”

“Don’t you remember? She lost her gall bladder in Turkey!”

“Ohh… right…”

I honestly can’t tell you how many times this conversation was repeated among our kids during our first term. It began as a tongue-in-cheek way to tell our kids that mom couldn’t eat the same way anymore because she no longer had a gall bladder. But it took on a life of its own that eventually had us concerned that our third-culture kids might grow up thinking that people simply lose their gall bladders when they travel – like they might misplace some toy – rather than having them surgically removed. Don’t underestimate the things that can get missed in a TCK upbringing. Until I was sixteen, I thought that spaghetti was grown on farms.

The whole gall bladder saga came about quite unexpectedly. We needed to take a medical trip to Istanbul, Turkey, a year and a half after arriving on the field. There, we would visit a network of hospitals called Acibadem for our needed shots and checkups. Because of these shots, our family came to call this hospital “Ouchy Bottom.”

Before any of our medical work was done, we decided to spend a week of rest in a historic island town near Istanbul where no cars were allowed. It was a good, if very humid, week, dragging our toddlers all over the island. If you are ever traveling somewhere with toddlers where cars are not permitted, always be sure to check that your Airbnb is not a long walk uphill. Also, Turks, unlike our desert people group, seem to think that AC and ice water will make you sick, so these are not nearly as readily available as one might hope in a sweltering July.

During our week there, our daughter accidentally head-butted my wife in the eye, leaving her with quite the shiner – swollen, puffy, and dark purple. I had a lot of people give me the stink eye on ferries and around town that week, thinking that I had something to do with this. I didn’t know enough Turkish to point out the true culprit – the adorable little girl with the pigtails.

All good things must come to an end, and at the end of the week, we left the charming yet sweaty island and moved over to the mainland to commence with the medical work. The kids got their shots and my wife went in for an abdominal ultrasound, something a doctor had ordered out of an abundance of caution. While the area the ultrasound was supposed to focus on proved to be fine, the tech had also accidentally/providentially pointed it at the gall bladder area. So, we were informed that there were some pretty serious gall stones there, and that surgery would be necessary.

One of the strange contrasts between Turkey and our area of Central Asia is that while Turkey is much more developed and modern, and there’s a lot of Western music playing everywhere, there’s actually a lot less knowledge of English in the general and professional population. The doctors had good English, but to our surprise, the rest of the nurses and hospital staff didn’t. In one sense, good on them for being so confident as a people in their own language. But in an age of medical tourism, this can sometimes mean things get lost in translation – like entire organs.

In the consultation, the doctor told us the medical term for the procedure he would do, called a cholecystectomy. Then he blitzed through the scheduling and recovery pieces. My wife and I, having very limited experience with medical gall bladder terminology, thought that this cholecystectomy surgery must entail simply removing the gall stones. We had no idea it meant removing the entire organ. Our Google Translate conversations with the hospital staff didn’t clear this up for us either. Everyone assured us that we were in store for a very simple and normal procedure.

So, a couple of mornings later, the kids and I said goodbye to our wife and mother in her blue hospital gown and shower cap, still sporting her black eye.

After several hours, the doctor told me that the procedure was complete and that I could come and be with my wife when she woke up from the anesthesia.

“Mr. Workman, the surgery was a great success!” the doctor enthusiastically told me as I walked into the room. “Would you like to see the organ?”

“The organ?”

“Yes! I have it in a jar and can show it to you if you like.”

“The stones?”

“The gall bladder, of course, with the stones too. Everything went perfectly according to plan!”

I took a moment to absorb what the jovial doctor had just said. They had taken out the whole thing.

“Oh, right… Um, no, I don’t think I need to see the organ. Thank you.”

“Please excuse me for a moment,” the doctor continued. “Your wife should be waking up any minute now.”

I went over to sit by my wife and thought about the best way to break the news to her. I could let the doctor do it. But no, that was not likely to go well. The doctor was acting far too cavalier for that. I’d better do my best to break it to her gently, but directly.

A few minutes later she stirred, blinking back into consciousness.

“Hey, love!” I said in a low voice, smiling.

“Hey…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmm… Okay, I guess.”

“Well, the doctor said the surgery went great. No issues whatsoever.”

The moment had come. I had to tell her. I took a deep breath.

“But… they had to take out the whole gall bladder.”

My wife rolled her eyes over to look at me.

“They what?”

“Yeah, they took the whole thing out. I guess that was their plan all along.”

We both sat there in that hospital room, registering what this meant and wondering how in the world we had missed something like the nature of the surgery itself. In the days that followed, we learned that this had indeed been the medically necessary thing to do, which brought some relief. Still, had we known they were planning on removing an entire organ we would have at least done some more research about alternatives or how this surgery might affect the rest of someone’s life.

In the years since, not having a gall bladder has indeed had a drastic effect on what my wife can and can’t eat, meaning we’ve added that particular organ to our growing list of things we look forward to being made new in the coming resurrection. We do laugh about how it all went down, but it’s a laughter tinged with some sadness also. Our bodies were meant to have functioning gall bladders to help us enjoy the great variety of God’s good foods. Now my wife’s was gone, perhaps still in a jar somewhere in Istanbul, another casualty of the fall.

Despite being the place where we lost mama’s gall bladder, we still love Turkey. A very special part of my calling took place there during a prayer meeting in 2008. My wife and I spent a couple of wonderful days there during our first vision trip to Central Asia as newlyweds. Where else can you can drink chai on a ferry as the sun sets on the Bosphorus, watching the light play on the spires and even more ancient domes of the Hagia Sophia? Or drink some good Japanese cold brew in historic Chalcedon?

Yes, despite misadventures like this one, part of our hearts will always be in Turkey. And now, one of our gall bladders also.

*Spellcheck has made me aware that Americans are supposed to spell gall bladder as one word, gallbladder. But having grown up overseas, I’m with the Brits on this one, so gall bladder it is and shall remain in my writing.

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Burying the Talents of the Great Rewarder

A number of months ago I was reading the parable of the talents to my kids at bedtime. There was nothing unusual about the night. I was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom they all currently share, Bible open in my hands. The lamp was turned off in their room to help them settle down and I was relying on the hallway light for my reading. The plan was simple as always. Read a little bit, discuss a little bit, sing a song or two together, pray, give kisses and hugs goodnight, and finally, navigate multiple attempts to get out of bed again for various and sundry reasons. It was a typical night, not the kind of time I would have predicted for the conviction of the Spirit to fall.

We were almost finished our reading through the book of Matthew and that night had come to chapter 25, verses 14-30. The parable of the talents will be well-known to most of you, but if it’s not you can read it here and I’ll also post it below. The summary is that a master leaves on a long journey, entrusting three servants with three very large sums of money (called talents). The first one receives five talents, about 100 years’ worth of wages for a laborer. The second receives two talents, about 40 years’ worth of wages for a laborer. And the third receives one talent, roughly 20 years’ wages. The first two servants spend the following lengthy period investing their master’s money and both double the amounts they received. The third servant goes off and buries the money he received. When the master returns, he affirms the faithfulness of the first two servants and then rewards them with both increased authority and joy. But the third servant explains that he played it safe and merely stashed his master’s money away. He says he did this because he knew his master’s character to be harsh and stingy. The master, in turn, strongly rebukes him, telling him that if he knew this he still should have at least put the money in the bank, where it could have collected interest. He then commands that the one talent be given to the first servant, and that the wicked servant be cast out into the “outer darkness,” essentially into hell. The parable ends with the third servant losing even the amount that he had preserved, while the first two servants receive even more than the enormous amounts they had ended up with.

This is a parable I know well, and have read dozens and dozens of times. But for whatever reason, when I read it this time (and read it for my kids, no less, not for me), clarity and conviction fell hard. The familiarity of the passage meant that I’d never really understood the whole bit about the master’s character. But I suddenly realized that this was at the very core of the parable. The wicked servant says of the master, “I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” Essentially, “You are a stingy, exacting man, so I didn’t risk doing costly work that would go unrewarded. I played it safe and stashed your money away.” In Middle Eastern culture, then as well as now, stinginess is viewed as one of the very worst vices.

I was struck with a question I’d not thought of before. What was the servant doing all those years when the other servants were busy trading for the increase of their master’s wealth? Presumably, looking out for his own wealth. And why? Because he did not believe that it would be worth it to risk spending all those years and all that sweat, only to have his master come back and take it all from him. If he invested for his master, he would labor and sacrifice and risk, and for what? A stingy master? No, thanks! He would instead do the minimum, follow the letter of the law, try to serve two masters. His master had given him this money to keep safe, so he would do that – and no more.

The other two servants seem to have had a radically different view of their master’s character. We see this from their actions. They do spend a long time using what their master had entrusted to them to generate even more wealth for him. How are they able to do this? Well, the parable tells us that they are faithful. In one sense, this is enough. Faithful servants seek to obey their masters above and beyond what they are asked, as if they are working as unto God, not unto men. But it seems that the whole back-and-forth about the master’s character is giving us a clue that the other servant’s must not have believed that their master was stingy and harsh. Rather, they must have believed that in the end, their master was a rewarder. The end of the parable shows us this was indeed his true nature. But also consider how often Jesus speaks of heavenly rewards in the book of Matthew alone (5:12, 5:46, 6:1, 6:2, 6:4, 6:5, 6:6, 6:16, 6:18, 10:41, 10:42). Then, take the radical statement from Hebrews 11:6 that to please God, one must believe that he is a rewarder of those who seek him. No, this faith in the master’s character is the difference between the two servants’ faithful risk and the other’s wicked self-interest.

These truths cut to my heart because I was in a long season of doubting God’s character. After seven years of costly ministry on the field, preceded by seven years of costly ministry in the US, I felt like we were in shambles. We had worked hard for our master and even seen what he had given us multiplied many times over. A few dozen had come to faith, a church had been planted, hundreds had heard the gospel, missionary teams had been strengthened and served – tens of thousands of words had been written. But our health, our faith, our finances, our prospects? These all looked pretty bad. My heart had settled into a posture where I was counting up the cost, and feeling like God was harsh and stingy. I was no longer open to risking for God in the same way, instead feeling like I needed to take care of myself and my family’s future. Sure, I knew I would keep doing the essentials – trying to pray and read my bible, trying to write, trying to encourage others, doing bedtime devotions with the kids. I wouldn’t get rid of the talent entrusted to me – but I just might bury it.

“Is this really what I think of God’s character?” I thought to myself as read the cynical words of the third servant to my kids that night. “…a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed…”

I finished the parable and paused in my reading, quiet, sad, and somehow grateful to feel the sharpness of the Word after a long season of numbness.

“Dad?” my oldest son asked, wondering about my extended silence.

“Huh?… Oh, right. Um, what song should we sing?”

“The fruit of the Spirit’s not a coconut!” piped up our youngest. Ah, yes, a classic.

We proceeded to finish the bedtime routine, but I knew I would be chewing on Matthew 25 and this train of thought for some time to come. Deep down, I had felt that there was a part of me that still believed that God is not stingy, but instead a generous rewarder. That everything, absolutely everything, would be remembered and reflected in that eternal weight of glory being prepared for us. But this faith had been slowly buried under shovel-fulls of sorrow, self-pity, and spiritual fog.

In the following months the theme of God as a rewarder, and the resulting joy of those who out of this truth risk and suffer (and are therefore the most fully alive of any of us), jumped out at me from passage after passage. I saw it shouting at me from the Beatitudes, from Hebrews 11, from 2nd Corinthians 4, even from grumpy Naaman the Syrian risking seven dips in the muddy Jordan. I remembered how it was the truths of the coming resurrection that shook me out of seasons of spiritual depression in the past – one of the reasons I had initially chosen to highlight that theme in my blogging. Slowly, the faith to risk because of God’s character returned, until I found myself one night hearing my wife telling me she was now ready to attempt a return overseas. In fact, she was playfully kicking me while she said this, asking me what was taking me so long to join her.

There were a number of powerful truths that combined to open my heart again to risk again, whether that means ministry overseas or back again in the States someday. But the first life-giving blow came from the parable of the talents, from a seemingly-normal bedtime with my kids, and with it the resolve to no longer doubt the character of my master.

He is the great rewarder. His commendation awaits. I must not bury his talents, but invest and risk them. Risk them all.

[14] “For it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted to them his property. [15] To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. [16] He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more. [17] So also he who had the two talents made two talents more. [18] But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master’s money. [19] Now after a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them. [20] And he who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five talents more, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me five talents; here, I have made five talents more.’ [21] His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ [22] And he also who had the two talents came forward, saying, ‘Master, you delivered to me two talents; here, I have made two talents more.’ [23] His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.’ [24] He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, ‘Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, [25] so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.’ [26] But his master answered him, ‘You wicked and slothful servant! You knew that I reap where I have not sown and gather where I scattered no seed? [27] Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and at my coming I should have received what was my own with interest. [28] So take the talent from him and give it to him who has the ten talents. [29] For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. [30] And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Matthew 25:14-30

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A Song for Wayfaring Strangers

“Poor Wayfaring Stranger” by David O’Dowda

This is a solid remix of the old spiritual, “Poor Wayfaring Stranger.” This song reminds us that we are sojourners and strangers here in a world of suffering, but that we are bound for our true homeland. The traditional lyrics of the chorus focus on seeing loved ones again in heaven, which is a wonderful thing. However, I’ve been trying to rework the song for a corporate worship version in a way that incorporates our longing to see the face of God. It has a singable structure, it just needs to be put to a tempo appropriate for congregational song. Below is what I have so far after borrowing from various versions of the song and writing some lines of my own.

I am a poor wayfaring stranger
While journeying through this world below
But there’s no sickness, toil, or danger
In that bright world to which I go

I’m going there to my true Father,
He said he’d meet me when I’d come
I’m only going over Jordan
I’m only going over home

I know dark clouds will gather o’er me
I know my way lies rough and steep
But heaven’s fields lie out before me
Where weary eyes no more shall weep.

I’m going there to see my Savior,
He said he’s making me a room,
I’m only going over Jordan
I’m only going over home

I want to sing salvation’s story,
In concert with the blood-washed band;
I long to wear a crown of glory,
When I get home to that good land.

I’m going there to join my people,
The multitude from every tongue
I’m only going over Jordan
I’m only going over home

I soon shall die, leave all behind me,
This form will rest beneath the sod
But resurrection’s waiting for me,
And my forever home with God.

I’m going there to see his glory,
To worship Christ with seraphim,
I’m only going over Jordan
I’m only going over home

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The Hidden Glory of the Unengaged

Jesus says that the angels rejoice when even one sinner comes to repentance (Luke 15:7). What then might take place in the heavens when that sinner is the first in the history of the world to worship God from a particular language or culture? What kind of angelic rejoicing might result when not just an individual but a congregation from hitherto-alienated people, at last, join the great choir of tongues and nations worshiping the lamb? This is not a hypothetical situation. We live in an age when the Church of Christ continues to advance steadily, bringing gospel light to even the hardest-to-reach people groups on the planet – although thousands of these groups still await the coming of their very first ambassador. These groups are the unengaged, the people for whom there is not yet even a single team committed to church planting among them. 

Revelation 21:22-27 speaks of the kings of the earth bringing the glory and honor of the nations into the new Jerusalem. This implies that there are distinctive kinds of honor, unique forms of glory for different groups of human peoples, IE ethnic groups – and that these glorious differences will somehow be present even in eternity (c.f. Rev7:9). These verses in Revelation 21 would have painted initially the picture of rich and diverse royal caravans bringing the material goods of the nations into New Jerusalem (e.g., the queen of Sheba visiting Solomon). Yet any primary survey of the world’s peoples will quickly observe that their unique strengths, their particular beauty, also consist of their distinct cultures and languages. And these deeper characteristics of what it means to be a given people group represent some of their most genuine riches. 

Central Asians, for example, are natural at extravagant hospitality. Americans stand out for their optimistic, problem-solving approach to life. East Asians model respect for elders such that Koreans may not even call their older siblings by their names but by the respectful titles of older brothers and sisters. Languages also have inherent strengths, with each tongue having a rich vocabulary corresponding to its culture’s emphases. Some languages excel in communicating the abstract or technical (looking at you, English). Yet others, in the beauty of the poetic. Some have given birth to intricate grammar systems so complex it is said that no one over forty can learn them. Yet other languages stand out for their simplicity and efficiency, as is seen in the wondrous flexibility of the world’s pidgins and creoles.

Where do these various cultural-linguistic strengths come from in the different people groups of the world? They come from the presence of the image of God among the individual members of that language or culture (Gen 1:27). For even in unengaged people groups that have had no gospel access whatsoever, the image of God given at the creation of Adam and Eve continues to linger. It is present in each new generation, though marred and broken by the effects of sin and death. The presence of this broken image among these peoples still speaks as a witness to the reality of the creator. Together with creation, this image reflects(although dimly) aspects of who he is and what he is like (Acts 14:17). But it also gives gifts, areas of strength in each person, language, and culture. These are places where the goodness of God’s creation still generously overflows even after millennia of sin and death.

Sadly, in the unengaged people groups of the world, these strengths are primarily used in the service of the enemy. Without the presence of a believing community, these gifts are a window of God’s glory only in their witness to his common grace and to His coming judgment. However, when a missionary engages this kind of people group, when the first individual or group of locals are born again, what has been concealed or latent is suddenly revealed. It’s as if a long-buried treasure is suddenly exposed to the sunlight. Or, torches that have not been lit from the birth of that culture and language are suddenly set ablaze. The result is glory, the real beginning of the glory of the nations, now at last truly reflecting the glory of God. The unique strengths and honor of a people group, whether great or small, can now be used for the first time in praise of the King. 

Extravagant hospitality can now be offered from a motive of gospel love, even to the poor who cannot extend an invitation in return (Luke 14:13). Western optimism can now be grounded in the sobriety of the wisdom literature and matured by an unshakeable faith in God’s promises. Eastern respect for elders can now be done “as unto the Lord” and no longer out of mere cultural duty or fear of shame (Col 3:22). Languages suddenly become vehicles for psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs – for the eternal word of God itself as it is preached and as it is translated. In all these things, God’s universal truth and beauty are displayed through the unique facets of local expression. 

There are multiple biblical motivations for missions, for going to the most challenging and remote corners of the earth to bring the gospel to those who have never heard the name of Christ. Hell is real (Rev 20:15). The love of Christ compels us (2 Cor 5:14). The glory of God calls for universal proclamation (Ps 96). Yet among these motivations, we may forget that missions is also a chance to take part in revealing hidden beauty, the unleashing of latent glory. Every missionary who risks the costs and dangers of going to the unengaged also has a chance to play a part in, even to be there to witness, the glory of the unengaged, finally unveiled to the praise of God. 

Undoubtedly there is a special kind of joy in heaven when a given language and culture becomes a vehicle for the praise of God for the very first time. Who can tell with what anticipation the angels await the sound of new hymns sung in the language of the Luri, the power of preaching in Shabaki, and mission endeavors planned and carried out in the style of the Hawrami? And it’s not only heaven that will taste this joy. No, it will also be present in the hearts and tears of the missionaries who are honored to witness this glory unveiled and in the gatherings of their sending and supporting churches as they hear the incredible news from afar. 

Revelation 21 is going to come to pass. God’s eternal glory and beauty will be reflected in the unique honor and glory of each of the nations, in each of the world’s remaining unengaged people groups. The costs of reaching these groups will be high, and the losses dear. But as we send and go, let us keep this vision of this coming joy before us. In eternity we will see the glory of the nations flowing into the new Jerusalem. And we will see the beginnings of this hidden glory even now by going to the unengaged. 

This post was originally published on immanuelnetwork.org

The Transformation of JJ the Bully: An Addendum

So my mom fact-checked my story about JJ the bully. And rather than just editing a few places in the article for historical accuracy, I thought I’d write a separate post about the differences between my memory and my mom’s in order to explore the nature of memory and memoir a bit, as well as to include an ending to the story that I had forgotten about, but which even further emphasizes the effect that unexpected kindness had on him.

First, my mom informed me that the details of the second scene of my story weren’t quite right. This was the part where I wrote that she took us to 7-Eleven in order to buy a slurpee for JJ, and that we had chosen to buy him a blueberry one. In fact, she told me that we first drove to JJ’s house, where my mom told him that we were going to Rita’s Water Ice, and asked him if he’d like to come along. Rita’s is a warm-weather staple of the area northeast of Philadelphia, now branded Rita’s Italian Ice, but back then in the regional dialect it was known as Rita’s Wooder Ice. Italian ice is sort of like a snow cone, but with much finer ice, and it has a denser consistency than a smoothie or slurpee. However, JJ couldn’t come with us, so we asked him what flavor we could bring back for him. He chose lemon.

Rita’s, and not 7-Eleven. Lemon, and not blueberry. An initial visit to his house and return, rather than one surprising visit. Assuming that mom’s recollections are the correct ones – which is a good assumption since she was thirty seven and I was seven – it’s worth asking how and why my mind remembered things the way that it did.

I only remembered standing at JJ’s door once, and not the initial time that we had stopped by. Why might that be? Well, our brains do tend to remember situations in piecemeal fashion, “deleting” the vast majority of our memories that don’t seem significant, while holding onto the parts that had some kind of emotional significance. Fear, for example, is one of the strongest “cementers” of memory. If you have ever been unexpectedly put on the spot by a teacher, and that situation made your nervous system kick into high gear, then you will likely remember that scene for the rest of your life. Therefore, it’s likely that my mind deleted the first visit, categorizing it as not that significant, whereas it remembered the second time we were at JJ’s door. Why? Because of the emotion on JJ’s face. Human minds mirror one another’s emotions, so when I saw JJ’s expression I also felt his emotion. And this was significant enough that it was categorized under scenes to be archived for future reflection.

Why then did my mind swap 7-Eleven for Rita’s, and blueberry for lemon? Here we probably have a case of the mind naturally filling in the gaps in a memory from other similar memories of that same season (Perhaps I chose blueberry for myself at Rita’s that day). This freedom the mind feels to cut and paste certain details of stories, to mix memories together, and to remember things that didn’t really happen is what makes an individual’s memory alone less than rock-solid evidence of the actual history.

While there is always a certain kind of validity to the details of one’s memories – your mind remembers things in a certain way for a reason, meaning there is a true story being told about you even in memories that are not quite factual – human memory is not exactly a copy/paste of the historical situation. This is why having multiple witnesses is so important for a legal case. It’s also why it can be so helpful to compare our memories with others who were there. Even in situations where everyone recalls things accurately (as with the supernaturally-enabled writers of the gospels), each human brain involved is remembering only partial details of that scene, meaning that the combination of true stories leads to a fuller story overall. Alas, only the mind of God is perfectly and comprehensively aligned with the historical record for any given event.

All this means we should read or write memoir with a grain of salt, knowing that even the recollections of an honest author will come with some inevitable gaps, additions, or personal interpretations mixed in. But the fact that all natural memoir is like this means that once this is understood as a given, then we can engage in the genre with freedom, enjoyment, and humility. We try our best, and neither author nor reader need get bent out of shape when it comes out that certain details were a little off. It’s simply the nature of the genre, the nature of memory. As with biblical hermeneutics, knowing what genre we are in is key for proper interpretation and response, even for proper enjoyment. Memoir is the genre of significant true experiences that are remembered by the brain in a mostly-true, limited-perspective kind of way. And these very limitations of memoir are what make it so much fun.

No matter how good the story, the reader knows that there’s always more detail that might be unveiled, things that even the author missed. Sometimes the discovery of an omission makes the story even better. All of our favorite true stories conceal fascinating details that we have yet to learn – even the biblical ones. I would not be surprised if significant time is spent in eternity filling in these gaps. “Okay, Matthew, I invited you over for chai because I’ve simply got to know a little bit more about those dead saints who got out of their graves and wandered around Jerusalem after the crucifixion. What exactly was going on there?”

When I talked to my mom this week, she told me that I had ended the story of JJ the bully prematurely. As it went down, sometime later my mom was jogging in their neighborhood when she came across JJ again. She asked him if he had enjoyed his lemon water ice. JJ’s response?

“I didn’t drink it. I put it in my freezer because I wanted to keep it… I’ve never had anyone do something that nice for me before.”

Maybe someday I’ll meet JJ again. Because now I want to know – Did he ever drink it? How long did it stay in the freezer? Did his mom eventually throw it away? Does he still have it in his freezer? How does it end?!

At this point, only God knows, the author of all authors, storyteller of all storytellers. Good thing we’ll get to spend eternity with him. I can’t wait to hear more of his stories.

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

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Did the Jews Really Borrow Certain Doctrines From the Zoroastrians?

“You know the Jews only got their belief in a fiery hell from the Zoroastrians in Babylon, right?”

This argument from my atheistic aunt was a new one for me. We had traveled to the Philly area to celebrate my engagement, when one morning my aunt opened up an apologetics conversation by asking me if I believed there would be free will in heaven. Somehow the conversation had veered into the territory of Zoroastrianism, which my aunt was putting forward as a point to undermine the authority of the Scriptures. After all, if central ideas like the nature of life after death had been borrowed from other religions, this would cast serious doubt on the Bible’s authority as God’s true revelation.

I chewed on her claim and considered how to respond.

“Well, I don’t know a lot about Zoroastrianism. But I don’t think you should say that there was no concept of a fiery judgment until after the exile. The ending of Isaiah (66:24) speaks of the wicked being judged by a fire that will never be quenched. And he predated the exile by a generation or so.”

That conversation may have been the first time I heard the argument that Judaism (and Christianity through it) borrowed heavily from Zoroastrianism. But it certainly wasn’t the last. This position is held as fact by many scholars, and even shows up in some pretty good Christian textbooks and resources. In addition, Zoroastrianism is enjoying a quiet revival in Central Asia and also has some good PR in the West with claims of being “The first monotheistic religion” and the first to teach a final judgment and resurrection.

So, how should Christians respond to the claim that much of our doctrine has been borrowed from the teachings of Zarathustra/Zoroaster, the ancient prophet who founded Zoroastrianism?

First, it helps to have a basic understanding of the history of this religion. Because that story alone leaves a lot to be desired in terms of statements of historical certainty. As best we can tell, Zarathustra was an influential religious teacher sometime around 1,200 BC to 500 BC who sought to reform the polytheism of ancient Persia into something approaching monotheism. But even here, we should be cautious calling calling it monotheism, since early Zoroastrianism teaches a temporary dualism, where even though there was only one God (Ahura Mazda), now there is a second, his evil enemy (Angra Mainyu), who is a god that must be battled both in creation and in the souls of humans. But later, when Zoroastrianism was codified and organized under the Sassanians in the AD 200s, its sacred text, the Avesta, presents an eternal dualism, or even an eternal tri-theism. Even Mithra, the God of war from the Persian pantheon who became so popular among the Roman legions, is thrown into the mix. The goal of the religion remains the same, to help Ahura Mazda, the god of light, overcome the darkness through good thoughts, good words, and good deeds. But the nature of Ahura Mazda as the one true God is not even settled within the history and texts of Zoroastrianism itself. And even if it were, Moses predates Zarathustra by 400 years, at least. So, the claim that Jewish monotheism was borrowed from Zoroastrianism? It doesn’t hold water.

How about the claims that the concepts of a fiery hell and resurrection were borrowed? Here there a couple of big problems, as I see it. First, the later possible dates for Zarathustra’s life could place him as a contemporary of Daniel, Ezekiel, and the other writers of the exile period. A number of scholars maintain that Zarathustra was active during the lifetime of Cyrus the great. So, when the concept of resurrection shows up in Ezekiel and Daniel (Ez 37, Dan 12), why should the assumption be that they borrowed from the Zoroastrians they encountered in Babylon and Susa, when it’s just as likely that Zarathustra borrowed from them? Don’t forget what an influential figure Daniel was for decades in both the Babylonian and the Persian empires. He was not only prime minister, political second-in-command, but also head of the wise men of Babylon – essentially the priestly class. It’s not an unreasonable theory to propose that it is Daniel who is influencing the religion of the Persian empire, and not the other way around.

Further, how do you establish what Zoroastrianism was actually teaching during the time of the exile when its sacred texts were not collected and compiled until 700 years later, during the first generation of the Sassanian empire in the 200s? This is the seriousness of the problem if Zarathustra was a contemporary of Daniel. But if he lived much earlier, say around 1,200 BC, then that makes for a period of 1,400 years between the life of Zarathustra and the compilation of his book of teachings, the Avesta. That would be like the Qur’an only being compiled today, when Muhammad lived and taught in the 600s. Given these huge periods of time, it seems like quite the stretch to read things in the Avesta and to say with confidence that these were indeed the teachings of Zarathustra, therefore they predate the biblical authors, therefore they must be the source for Jewish doctrine. Given this murkiness of the history of Zarathustra and Zoroastrianism, it seems that scholars are not really holding this ancient Persian religion to the same level of skepticism and criticism which they apply to Judaism and Christianity.

Ah, but you can’t find resurrection anywhere earlier than Ezekiel and Daniel, can you? Well, Jesus did, in the Torah, in Exodus 3:6. “And as for the resurrection of the dead, have you not read what was said to you by God: ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not God of the dead, but of the living” (Matthew 22:31–33). And if we turn to Isaiah, once again we see this supposedly borrowed concept being taught a generation before the exile, “Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a dew of light, and the earth will give birth to the dead” (Isaiah 26:19). For more evidence of resurrection in the Old Testament, check out this great article by Mitch Chase.

Over the years, I have heard these claims of borrowing from Zoroastrianism coming from my relatives, from Christian scholars, from online documentaries, and from Central Asian Zoroastrians trying to return to their roots. But when I dig around in the actual history of Zoroastrianism, of its founder and its beliefs, it doesn’t seem like these claims are coming from an examination of Zoroastrianism itself. Rather, it feels like some scholar made these claims once, everyone believed him, and now it’s just a big echo chamber where all accept these ideas as fact without knowing where they came from and if they were indeed sound in the first place.

Keep an eye out for Zoroastrianism in your evangelistic or apologetic conversations, and even in your resources. It tends to show up more than you might expect, claiming some pretty big things without the historical warrant to do so. A basic understanding of the story of Zoroastrianism – and how much really is debatable – can help provide a surprising answer, and get the conversation back on more profitable ground.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photo by Shino on Unsplash

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A Song on the Endless Summer of Heaven

“Endless Summer” by Lovkn

One of our missionary friends passed away this past week on the field after a long battle with brain cancer. Perhaps in time I will have the chance to write more of her and her family’s story, and how they returned to the field five years ago after the cancer diagnosis, knowing that it would likely be fatal. But for now we grieve and pray for her husband and kids, and for their Central Asian church family.

This song speaks beautifully of God’s welcome of his saints into life everlasting, into the endless summer of heaven. I love how the song speaks of heaven as “The Great Adventure.” Here is what the writer says of the lyrics:

Dedicated to Kimmy, this track was inspired by a life that left the Earth far too soon. The lyrics of this song are taken directly from Kimmy’s last blog post before she passed. It is a beautiful picture into the welcoming arms of the Father as we pass into eternity.