A Crash Course in Perspective

About a month ago, my dad came into the kitchen and poured some water into a glass. He then called my sisters in one at a time and asked them a simple question, "Is this glass half full or half empty?"

The first walked in, studied the glass for a minute and replied, "It's half empty."

The second one walked in and promptly answered, "It's half full." But then she stopped and her eyes grew wide. "Wait a minute!" She ran to tell my other sister, "It's both!"

I couldn't help smiling at this exchange, that my sisters so innocently illustrated the point of the "glass half full/half empty" analogy. It all depends on your perspective.

The idea of perception and perspective has been on my mind quite often recently. Much of it is related to several life circumstances where emotions tend to run very high and where trusting God in uncharted territory might be difficult.

I can't see past my own nose sometimes. In the midst the unknown, I want so much to be in control. I focus only on the here and now, and the narrower my perceptions become, the less room there is for God and His ever-working hand.

I think what I've been experiencing is much like a roller coaster. To the observer, roller coasters never appear to be moving very fast. The drops do not seem as steep. Take a step back and you can see the ride as a whole in relation to everything around it. It always ends by coming safely into the station. Riding a roller coaster is a very different experience, though. Every turn is unexpected, every drop is terrifying. We see only a few feet of track ahead of us, nothing more.

And so I come to today's quote. It's actually an entire poem, written by Corrie Ten Boom, expressing the difference between our perspective in the midst of life and God's perspective, who sees the entire sprawling plan of history as one coherent picture.  

My life is but a weaving 

Between my God and me. 

I cannot choose the colors 

He weaveth steadily. 

Oft' times He weaveth sorrow; 

And I in foolish pride 

Forget He sees the upper 

And I the underside. 

Not 'til the loom is silent 

And the shuttles cease to fly 

Will God unroll the canvas 

And reveal the reason why. 

The dark threads are as needful 

In the weaver's skillful hand 

As the threads of gold and silver 

In the pattern He has planned 

He knows, He loves, He cares; 

Nothing this truth can dim. 

He gives the very best to those 

Who leave the choice to Him.

I forget that God sees everything, that His plan has already been written. It's like Philip Yancey's book, Where is God When it Hurts? 

In the last chapter, he says, "You can go to a ten-foot blackboard and draw a line from one side to another. Then, make a one-inch dot in that line. That dot, to a microscopic germ cell undulating in its midst, would seem enormous. The cell could spend its lifetime exploring the dot. But if you, a human, step back to view the entire blackboard, you'll be struck by the hugeness of the ten-foot line compared to the tiny dot the germ cell calls home."

We are all like that germ cell. When I question God's reasons for the circumstances in my life, it is not because He ought to be questioned, but because I am not looking at things with the right perspective. Just today, a friend of mine mentioned the Casting Crowns song "Already There," and I think it is very fitting: "When I'm lost in the mystery, to You my future is a memory, cause You're already there..."

How has my life become a crash course in perspective? I think it is the tough circumstances, or those that may not be tough, just uncertain, that remind me who I am and who God is. It is enough for me to know that we see "in a mirror dimly," and not expect to see more, not yet. I can be content, as one bound by time and space, to rest with confidence in the care of One who is bound by neither. 

For this reason, when someone asks me if the glass is half empty or half full, I ought to instead respond with David, "My cup overflows." And this, because God is the One who fills it.

The Story of a Duel

"Why is it not doing away with them?" I cried, outraged. "If you systematically ruin somebody, and take any possibility of earning a living from them, they must surely finally starve. Is that not so? I call it doing away with someone when you deliberately allow them to starve, don't you?"

"Calm down," said Holz, "nobody starves in Germany. If a Jewish shopkeeper is really ruined, he will get social security payments." The terrible thing was that he said that quite seriously, without the slightest sneer. We parted in a hostile mood.

-Sebastian Haffner, Defying Hitler 

I am doing something a little different with my blog today. Why? Because, I have just finished reading a remarkable book, and half the pleasure in the discovery an articulate, insightful, and (sometimes) painfully honest author is being able to share it with others.

For several years I have been a student of World War Two history, largely because the novel I am writing is a WWII story. During that time I have collected a small library of firsthand accounts, biographies and history books all dealing with 1940s in general and Nazi Germany in particular. I have been trying to understand how an entire nation could have been duped into following one man bent on taking over the world and systematically destroying entire races. Even 70 years later, it is a puzzle we may never be able to solve completely, except by simply citing the depravity of man.

Last summer, my mom visited a used book sale and brought me a small paperback that had caught her eye: Defying Hitler, by Sebastian Haffner. Neither of us had ever heard of the author before or this little book that had been written in 1939 but published posthumously in 2000. Haffner was born in 1907 and came of age in a country that was just beginning to fall under Hitler's spell. He emigrated in 1938 and began working on what would become his first book (though the last to be published). Defying Hitler is part historical account, part memoir, part philosophy, part confession, part tragedy and a rare view of Germany by a German who himself just barely escaped being swept away in an ideological maelstrom.

What I found remarkable about Haffner's account was his attempt to explain something inexplicable. From his perspective, everything about post-WWI Germany conditioned his generation to accept the Nazis. He speaks of growing up in the midst of the Great War, when he and his young friends lived for the daily army bulletins and the back-and-forth, chess-like movements of the troops: 

"For a schoolboy in Berlin, the war was something very unreal; it was like a game. There were no air raids and no bombs. There were the wounded, but you saw them only at a distance, with picturesque bandages... It was a dark, mysterious game and its never-ending, wicked lure eclipsed everything else, making daily life seem trite. It was addictive, like roulette and opium. My friends and I played it all through the war: four long years, unpunished and undisturbed. It is this game, and not the harmless battle games we organized in the streets and playgrounds nearby, that has left its dangerous mark on all of us."

This addiction to sensationalism followed Haffner and his friends into their teen and young adult years, when one of the most "sensational" men in history would be vying for their loyalty. Haffner describes the advent of Hitler with uneasiness, but also points out that the Nazi takeover did not seem like a violent revolution to most people. Daily life went on, basically unchanged. People were born, went to school, fell in love, worked, played, died, etc. And when they finally began to feel the grip of the Nazis tightening around them, the cloud of fear hanging over them, they chalked up the additional restrictions (the atrocities even) as necessary to keeping the peace.

While Haffner claimed he could see the Nazis for who they truly were, he was not looking for a fight, as he explains in his introduction.

"This is the story of a duel. It is a duel between two very unequal adversaries: an exceedingly powerful, formidable, and ruthless state and an insignificant, unknown private individual... The individual is...ill prepared for the onslaught. He was not born a hero, still less a martyr. He is just an ordinary man with many weaknesses, having grown up in vulnerable times. He is nevertheless stubbornly antagonistic. So he enters into the duel--without enthusiasm, shrugging his shoulders, but with a quiet determination not to yield."

But he almost did yield, teetered on the edge of the precipice and stepped back. Haffner was training to be a lawyer. When the time came for him to take their government's equivalent of a bar exam, he and his class gathered at a barracks town. What was meant merely to prepare them for the test was turned into a Nazi conditioning camp by the state. They learned how to march and shoot, to sing Nazi songs, and to enjoy the terrible convenience of being too busy to think about what they were doing. 

Haffner was not looking for a duel. Except for a few angry outbursts at his classmates, he tried mostly to slip under the radar. It worked...until that which he had tried to avoid came so close that he could feel its breath on his face, and he was unprepared for it.

I wanted to share all of this with you, because I thought Defying Hitler was a very interesting book, a good window into one of the most troubling societies of the 20th Century and a telling commentary on the nature of man. There also may be some lessons for us here. 

Now, I am not a political person. I have never been. But even I am tempted to make some comparisons to what this man experienced and what Christians in this country can experience. I'll keep it brief and leave the discussion to those who know what they're talking about. What struck me was something Haffner discovered: Complacency doesn't work. That applies to any society, any moral choice. If we simply try to avoid conflict, then conflict catches us unawares, and we realize that simply for the sake of keeping the peace or saving our skin, we've already taken too many steps in the wrong direction.

Take it from someone who's struggled all her life with avoiding conflict (for the wrong reasons), who is too easily tempted by the path of least resistance: comfort zones can get pretty cramped. But, we have a Father who has given us all the tools to combat evil in this world and whose Word rings like a clarion against the lulling drone of modern liberalism and tolerance for every deviant whim. His is a cause worth fighting for.

A Life for a Life

"It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." 

-Sydney Carton's last words in A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

Think back about the best story you've ever read. What was so intriguing about it? How did it affect you? Some prefer the suspense of a thriller or the emotional rewards of a love story. There are mysteries that cater to the reader's intellect and tales of heroism that restore our belief in chivalry and honor. 

When I was in school a professor of mine asked our class what most affected us in a story. The answer was different for everyone, but I knew immediately what mine would be. Nothing will make me weep, nothing inspires me in a story like watching someone give themselves, their very lives for the life of another. This is why I included the above quote from Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. Against the backdrop of the French Revolution, the novel tells of dissolute lawyer Sydney Carton and his love for Lucie Manette, and woman of whom he is not worthy. In the end, Carton takes the place of Lucie's husband at the guillotine, giving his life so that she can be with the man she loves. It was this act of selflessness that turned a high school English assignment into one of my favorite works of literature.

I think of books and movies that have particularly moved me, and most of them include the sacrifice of a major character. Why is that? From a secular perspective, self-sacrifice makes no sense. According to evolutionists, survival of the fittest is the guiding rule in nature. Was the person saved by the death of another worth more than the person who laid down their life? If this life is all there is, what a "waste" to purposefully give it away.

And yet, A Tale of Two Cities is literally the bestselling novel of all time. Films like Life is Beautiful win Oscars. (That one in particular I encourage you to watch if you haven't seen it.) Medal of Honor winners and fallen soldiers are lauded as heroes (and rightly so). But why are they heroes? 

I think it has a lot to do with the fact that before humans were dying for each other, this is exactly what God did for us. 

(Note: Please do not misunderstand me. By bringing up A Tale of Two Cities, I am not trying to compare the drunkard Sydney Carton to our Lord. But if we value the story of a sinner giving his life for another sinner, how much more the truth that the Sinless One gave His life for a world of sinners?)

And think that this sacrifice was made by an omniscient God, who knew from eternity past what humanity would cost Him. The lyrics of the song "Mystery," sung by Selah, never cease to amaze me:

"God predestined that His Son would die, and He still created man."

Just ponder that for a moment. Words fail me. 

This is what our Lord did for us. But so much more than anyone else who has even given their life, Christ died, bore the physical pain and the soul-crushing separation from His Father. Then He took His heel and ground the serpent's head into the dirt. He sent the stone rolling back from the mouth of the tomb. He lives. "O death, where is thy victory. O death, where is thy sting?"

The Song of a Galilean Fisherman

I wrote this poems several years ago. I was reminded of it tonight and would like to share it with you. We remember today the crucifixion of our Lord, and we remember the fact that the ones who condemned Jesus to death, who denied ever having known Him, could have been us. We are, in fact, just as guilty of blasphemy and denial, and yet that horrific death on the cross paid our penalty. Remember with me the remorse of Peter and the grace that was shown to him. The same grace has been shown to us.

The Song of a Galilean Fisherman

He spoke in manner plain and true.

Why would I not believe?

He spoke because He ever knew.

Perhaps He ever grieved.

But in my false and foolish might

I heeded Him, aghast.

Of all I had on mind that night,

Denial was the last.

I thought, “No doubt I’ll prove Him wrong,

“As friend to show my worth.”

My sword rang out in jarring song.

An ear fell to the earth.

My action done, He firmly chid:

An unforeseen reply.

To put my sword away He bid,

Lest by it should I die.

So close about our meager band,

Came priests and foreign men

 And though a few did by Him stand,

Our numbers dwindled then.

Like one who sees himself as brave

The roguish band I traced.

They reached the house and I, a knave,

The glowing courtyard faced.

I thought to only warm my hands

Outside, while He was tried.

The slave girl came with her demands.

And it was then I lied.

To think that I had been so bold

To doubt He knew my heart.

The rooster crowed as He foretold.

I went a stood apart.

I wept as I have never wept

Before or ever will.

My soul as to a corner crept.

I felt both weak and ill.

But I remembered how He said

That He had prayed for me.

I thought of how He healed the dead

And set the sinner free.

If He could work such works for throngs

That daily would implore,

Could He not cover all my wrongs

Notice them no more?

The evening next I understood

That this is why He died.

My awful guilt was gone for good.

‘Twas then for joy I cried.

Forgiving Legree

       At this moment, Legree sauntered up to the door of the shed, looked in with a dogged air of affected carelessness, and turned away.
       "The old Satan!" said George, in his indignation. "It's a comfort to think the devil will pay him for this some of these days!"
       "Oh, don't! -- oh, ye musn't!" said Tom, grasping his hand; "he's a poor mis'able crittur. It's awful to think on't! Oh, if he only could repent, the Lord would forgive him now! But I'm 'feared he never will."
       "I hope he won't!" said George. "I never want to see him in heaven."
       "Hush, Mas'r George! It worries me! Don't feel so! He an't done me no real harm--only opened the gate of the kingdom for me; that's all!"
       At this moment, the sudden flush of strength which the joy of meeting his young master had infused into the dying man gave way. A sudden sinking fell upon him; he closed his eyes; and that mysterious and sublime change passed over his face that told of the approach of other worlds.

- Uncle Tom's Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe

Uncle Tom's Cabin is an interesting book. In the more than 160 years since its publication it has been met with mixed feelings. Stowe meant it to be a voice for the slaves of the South. (It was published not long before the beginning of the Civil War). But in the years following "Uncle Tom" became an offensive term, defined by the dictionary as "a black man who is thought to be too solicitous of or subservient to white people." It is a reaction that Stowe never intended and says a lot about our culture. For those who've never read the book, I'll provide a bit of background:

Uncle Tom's Cabin tells the story of a faithful slave who is sold when his master falls on hard times. Tom is forced to leave his wife and family and is passed from house to house. Eventually he falls into the hands of brutal landowner Simon Legree. Foul and heartless, Legree beats Tom within an inch of his life when the calm and quiet man won't reveal the whereabouts of two escaped slaves. The punishment is so severe that Tom eventually dies, on the very day that his original master's son George had come to bring him home.

I cannot in one paragraph convey the emotional power of Stowe's book, nor the poignancy of Tom's death, which I have recounted in the quote above. Read the book yourself, and you will see what I mean. A Christian sees Tom's persistent love, how he chides George for his lack of compassion, his longing for heaven and prayer that his murder might find that same salvation. In it they find a picture of Christ. Tom is not weak or subservient or solicitous. He is as our Savior was in Isaiah 53:7, "He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth." 

I have not read Uncle Tom's Cabin in years. But it came to my mind this weekend as we were singing "The Glory of the Cross" during Sunday's service. The first verse goes like this:

"What wisdom once devised the plan
"Where all our sin and pride
"Was placed upon the perfect Lamb
"Who suffered bled and died?
"The wisdom of a Sovereign God
"Whose greatness will be shown
"When those who crucified Your Son
"Rejoice around Your throne."

The truth in those words is incredible, and something occurred to me while I was singing that never occurred to me before. You may be familiar with the "courtroom analogy" used in evangelism to help unbelievers understand the magnitude of what Christ did for them in dying on the cross. It begins by putting the unbeliever in the place of a condemned criminal. You ask them to imagine that they have committed some heinous crime, such as rape or murder and that they face either $1,000,000 in fines or life in prison. No amount of arguing or pleading with the judge will make him change his mind. They obviously cannot pay the fine, and so are faced with a lifetime of punishment. But then, someone whom they have never met walks into the courtroom and places $1,000,000 on the judge's bench, stating that they've sold everything they own to purchase the freedom of the condemned. 

The magnitude of such sacrifice is staggering, and as an evangelism tool I believe the parable is complete. The unbeliever does not know Jesus, so to describe the Christ figure in the story as "someone they have never met" is correct. On the other hand, the courtroom analogy is missing something of what believers know to be true, something that both painfully and beautifully adds to the story of salvation, something that explains why Uncle Tom was such a picture of our Lord and Savior.

The man who walks into the courtroom and pays your fine is NOT someone who you have never met. He is the very person against whom you committed the crime. Imagine the victim of a rape walking into the courtroom and taking the punishment for the person who attacked them. It is unfathomable, but in essence that is exactly what Christ did. Every sin we have committed has been committed directly against our Maker and God. The offended party paid the ultimate price that we might have communion with Him. 

You and I are Simon Legree, the greedy, callous slaveholder who could care less how many lives he destroyed. And yet, Christ is eager to forgive us. I will never understand that, except to rest in the knowledge that my God is just as loving as He is just. Infinite righteousness and jealousy for the glory of His name are matched by infinite grace. So that we are able to sing with the hymn writer:

"Nothing in my hand I bring;

"Simply to the cross I cling;

"Naked, come to Thee for dress;

"Helpless look to Thee for grace;

"Foul, I to the fountain fly;

"Wash me, Savior, or I die."

Running on Empty, Stalling on Full

"My heart is broken as I cry like so many times before

"But my eyes are dry before I leave the floor.

"Oh Lord, I try, but this time, Jesus, how can I be sure

"I will not lose my follow-though between the altar and the door."

-"The Altar and the Door," Casting Crowns

 

The lyrics of this song struck a chord with me the first time I heard them--they still do. Why? Because sometimes complacency seems like a chronic disease. It is easy to make resolutions, even promises after a moving hymn, in the midst of a convicting sermon, in the dead of night when there are no distractions to compete for my attention and love. But as soon as the prayer, the sermon, or the night are over life begins again, with all of its demands. That which seemed so clear last night is slowly obscured by the world and the flesh. The work of God, the constant battle against sin becomes less tangible, and we drop our guard. If Bunyan were to rewrite Pilgrim's Progress, is it possible that Christian would have seen the path to the Celestial City strewn with swords and shields that believers had cast aside, though they may have never intended to. I used to say that I struggled with complacency, but then I stopped to think. Isn't complacency, by it's very nature, the absence of struggle?

***

This post is inspired by several things: circumstances in my own life (some wonderful, some troubling), and my pastor's sermon this morning. Before service, we had gathered to pray and several people asked the Lord that we would come away from the message changed, that we would be spurred to action and not become gluttons of biblical information, who are content only to hear and discuss but never to do. This happened to be exactly what my pastor spoke about. Change, he said, is not something we can muster up, any more than we could "muster up" our salvation in the first place. It only comes about through God's power, and His power comes through the Word.

I find it interesting how God allows things to come together at just the right time. I have just finished attending The Master's College Truth and Life Conference. The topic? God's Word. It had also recently come up in a conversation with a friend that reading the Bible needed to be more of a priority. It is like those laser cut prisms you can often find at gift shops. An image is been etched into the center of the crystal block without marking the outside. The laser used to create what is beautiful and intricate won't leave its mark unless focused by a lens. The angle and wavelength of the laser must all be arranged perfectly. In the same way, there are no coincidences in God's timing. And several things in my life worked together to focus and amplify what I already knew to be true.

Where does my title come into all of this? Logically, neither of the expressions make sense. A car cannot run if its fuel tank is empty. Nor would you expect it to stall if the tank is full. But it happens nonetheless. Why do I, who live in a society where the Bible is always within arm's reach, feel at times like I'm running on empty, attempting to change and not finding the strength to do so? This life, especially in America can be so full of distractions. In addition to the bad, there is so much that is good and neutral to fill our time and hold our attention. I'd be hard-pressed to find someone whose schedule wasn't full. This is not a sinful thing, but dependency on God and sensitivity to Him are hard when life is easiest.

When things are going well, the illusion of self-sufficiency is strong. I stall spiritually when everything seems smooth externally, and I see no reason for change. Then, when trials come (sometimes it's not even trials--it could just be new, unfamiliar circumstances) why do I feel like I'm floundering? When my life seemed full, I let my tank run out, so that it was empty when I needed it most. It is during those times when I am full that I have the luxury to prepare for the empty times. Or rather, remind myself of what I too easily forget, that in Christ I am never truly empty at all.

In the midst of all these metaphors what am I trying to say? The Christian life has always been easier said than done. How do I know? I see it in myself far too often. But we need not be discouraged if only we draw on the power already given: "And take...the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Ephesians 6:17). We can't let our swords fall by the wayside. 

Chasing Rainbows After Dark

"Why are there so many songs about rainbows

"And what's on the other side?

"Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,

"And rainbows have nothing to hide.

"So we've been told and some choose to believe it.

"I know they're wrong, wait and see.

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.

"The lovers, the dreamers and me."

 

"Somewhere over the rainbow

"Way up high,

"There's a land that I heard of

"Once in a lullaby."

We are a people fascinated with rainbows. To Kermit the Frog they were an inspiration. To Dorothy Gale they represented the gateway to a better life. But, scientifically, they are nothing more than the result of rain splitting white sunlight into its many colors--a natural prism.

I realize now that I have thought about rainbows quite frequently lately. They seem to be everywhere, in the songs that populate my playlist, in the passages we are reading at Bible study, and even in the sky, something very rare and precious for a native Southern Californian. It was not until earlier this month that I saw both ends of a rainbow for the first time. What an experience that was, to see it stretched from one end of the sky to the other in all of its radiant splendor, like a triumphal arch.

What is a rainbow really? It is so much more than an inspiration or the wish for something more. It is not merely the result of a prism, though even if it were no more, it would still be beautiful.

Genesis 9:13-16 says, "I set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth. It shall come about, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow will be seen in the cloud, and I will remember My covenant, which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and never again shall the water become a flood to destroy all flesh. When the bow is in the cloud, then I will look upon it, to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth."

It is a symbol of promise. God judged mankind once by rain and flood. He wrought destruction and death, the terror of which was matched only by the horror of man's sin, but He promised that He would never do so again. And in promising He set His bow, a weapon of war, in the sky as if on a shelf, never to be taken down again. Thousands of years later that promise still stands. We await a judgment by fire, but the days of judgment by water are over.

And what of my title? If I were to ask you to find a rainbow after dark, I would be sending you on a fool's errand. You could search all night long, and even if every atmospheric condition were perfect, there would be no rainbow without sunlight.

Yet, in spite of this, I was reminded of something while reading the story of Noah one morning. It was not raining at the time. There was no rainbow outside. There certainly hadn't been one all night. Did that mean that God's promise was invalid or could be called into question? As the Apostle Paul was so fond of saying, may it never be! It struck me that there is always raining somewhere on this earth, so there is always a rainbow somewhere. When God set His bow in the sky, He did so permanently, even if we cannot see it.  

And it strikes me now, that every rainbow has only ever shone after dark. Think about it. Why did God institute the rainbow? He had just destroyed the entire earth with a flood, because of man's sin. The world was a dark and heartless place. When Adam and Eve lived undefiled in the Garden, there was no need to promise to never again to destroy the earth. There was no need to destroy the earth in the first place. But sin entered in, man fell and even after the flood, the world was just as dark a place as it had been beforehand. Mere verses after the promise of the rainbow, Noah gets drunk and Ham is cursed for ridiculing him. Man constructs the tower of Babel in direct defiance to God, idolatry, slavery, homosexuality and all sorts of wickedness flourishes, and the flood becomes a faint memory, distorted by every culture.

It is the same today. We live in a dark world, where even God's symbol of promise is claimed by the LGBT movement as their own. Where men would rather chase Leprechauns and their pots of gold than seek God. Still, the bow stays in the sky, where God left it so many thousands of years ago. He will not bring judgment on our world, not yet. Nor will He bring judgment on us, who deserve it just as much as anyone else. God promised never to destroy the earth by water again, because He was not finished with humanity. It is this truth we run hard after in a dark world. There was an even greater promise yet to be fulfilled. The seed of the woman had yet to come.

Now, He has come. We have only just celebrated His birth. In a few months we will celebrate His death and resurrection. Some day in the future we will celebrate His return, when He will come not with a bow but with a sword, and not only with a sword but also with open arms to welcome His own. For this reason we eagerly wait. For this reason we chase rainbows after dark.