it's a bloody mess

"Well, today I found out that there are about 150 empty dorms on campus," my dad says.

I respond: "That seems like a lot... Do that many people just quit school?"

"It's a small percentage of 30,000."

"Wait," says my brother, "I actually thought the drop out rate was higher than that."

"It probably is, but not all of them live on campus."
"I know a kid who dropped out of college recently." I add, "Pretty sure he's in prison now... But hey, I guess there are a lot of different—"

My words catch in my throat.

The list of reasons people don't finish school doesn't need to be discussed tonight.

I drop my gaze from my brother
as the reminder of his friend's fatal car accident sears yet another hole in my heart.

There are so many now, it's amazing I still have a pulse;
That cardiac muscle of mine is beginning to resemble swiss cheese.

As my blood pressure drops, I try to scream.
It comes out hollow, weak and unconvincing, falling on deaf ears.

But I need them to understand.
I need them to realize that life can be cut short in the blink of an eye—
that their YOLO world view doesn't cut it—
that their lives are worth more than that—
worth more than they could ever know.

The blood of God has been spilt willingly on our account.
So what am I worth?
What are any of us worth?

"Worth, value, and beauty are not determined by some innate quality,
but by the length for which the owner would go to posses them.
And broken and ugly things like us are stamped excellent
with ink tapped in wells of divine veins—
a system of redemption that could only be described as perfect." 

[Propaganda]

It's better than perfume.

Jesus came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus liften up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." When he said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out." The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him and let him go."

[John 11:38-44]

As I view God as the Author of the universe, I like to think he is the ultimate expert at literary devices. I have to admit that I'm a bit of a nerd; I geeked out when I got to this passage in John. The foreshadowing, the metaphors... It's all so exciting! Partially because it's great literature, and partially because its implications affect the lives of everyone who has ever lived.

Right now I wanna hop out of this specific event in order to look at the broader implications, because I believe that this story isn't just about Jesus raising a man from the dead—which is awe-inspiring and incredible on it's own. I believe it's also a pre-game show for Christ's own death and resurrection— GET READY, PEOPLE: IT'S GONNA BE BIG— in addition to a picture of what it looks like when He rescues us from our sinful state of spiritual death. 

I've got 5 bits of goodness. Ready?

"Lord, by this time there will be an odor,
for he has been dead four days."

You know, sometimes I think that God made decomposing things smell so revolting to us as a kind of metaphor in order that we might understand how despicable sin is in His eyes. Now, the only thing I remember learning about math throughout my high school education was this: if A=B and B=C, then A=C. In other words, if people are sinful and sin is death, then people are dead in their sin. Yet Jesus descended from eternal bliss into this sin-infested mire without blinking. He doesn't care about the hopeless, disgusting state of people when we're dead— no matter how revolting it is to him. The living people around him are like, are you sure you wanna go there? It's gross. Have you ever smelled something that's dead? Naaaaasssstyy.

BIT NUMBER ONE: Christ forges on into our filth anyway;

he cares about us that much.

__________________________________

"Did I not tell you that if you believed
you would see the glory of God?"

Not if you do well enough in school. Not if enough people say you're a nice person. Not if you're successful enough at work. Not if you're a good enough friend, neighbor, child, sibling, or parent. Not even if you're a good enough Christian. 

BIT NUMBER TWO: The prerequisite for seeing God's glory

is NOTHING MORE than believing.

__________________________________

"Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me."

Jesus is constantly chatting with the Father; I'm pretty convinced they have that whole telepathy thing going on... But I think the moments when Jesus decides to communicate with Him verbally are the sweetest, because we know that he's only doing it so that we can hear. 

R.A. Torrey said,

"The chief purpose of prayer is that God may be glorified in the answer."

Isn't that beautiful? I mean, it's not like God is unaware of your needs until you tell Him about them. "Oh, good heavens— I didn't see you down there!" But when we ask God for things— and get them— we know that they came from God and can thank Him for them and give Him the praise and honor He deserves. Check out Jesus' prayer. He's thanking God and bearing witness that the miracle he's about to perform came solely from Him. What a classy fella.

BIT NUMBER THREE: Every miracle is done so the people who see it will know

it came from God.

__________________________________

"Lazarus, come out."

What a boss! This one is short and sweet. 

BIT NUMBER FOUR: The nature of the universe, the laws of physics, life and death...

Jesus has authority over everything.

__________________________________

"Unbind him and let him go."

This, at first glance, seems like the least important bit of dialogue in the entire passage. Like, kay... Obviously we don't want Lazarus to be mummified now that he's up and at it. But hear me out for a second:

The strips of linen used to wrap corpses were soaked in oil, spices, and perfumes; this was a Jewish custom with no other purpose than to keep the body from stinking so much. The stench of death was disgusting to them... Sound familiar? Except, instead of trying to cover up the smell of death, Jesus reverses death. He makes perfume obsolete. Do you understand the implications of that? The first time I read it, I didn't.

In our sinful state, we do stuff to try to make us seem less filthy. We try to train ourselves to be kind, generous, and thoughtful. We toil after perfection and try to be "good people" in order to cover up the stench of our rotting, sinful souls. With half-hearted attempts, we wrap our crappiness up in failed imitations of good deeds, always tainted with selfishness and pride. Just like spraying perfume on a rotting corpse, we know we're fighting a losing battle.

But Christ says, "unbind him and let him go." He doesn't bring extra-strength deodorant to the table; he wipes the slate clean, starting over from scratch. Christ makes us new creations. We don't have to constantly cover up our shameful sin, because HE HAS SET US FREE.

BIT NUMBER FIVE: We no longer have to strive after our own righteousness, because

Christ's is sufficient.

[Hebrews 10:14]

For by a single offering, Christ has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

†

soli deo gloria

Three and a half years ago, I was real confused. Primarily on this point: my cousin killed himself one January afternoon. For no apparent reason.
"God? Hello? I know you're there, but what the heck are you up to?"
There was a lingering question mark woven into every bit of consolation I received. It's true; we have no idea why crappy stuff happens. It's not God punishing us or anything-- this world is tainted by sin and therefore just kind of inherently sucks at times... A lot of the time. But was that all the comfort we would get, really?
"Your cousin shot himself in the head? Yeah, bummer dude. Isn't this world just the worst? Heaven will be better, just you wait..."
If that was all I got, I'm not sure how far I would have made it... I went to work as a cook at Hidden Acres six months after that, and I kept all that shenanigans to myself. No body wanted to hear about my sad miserable life. I wasn't there to drag everybody down, I was there to encourage the body of believers!
Grace's Flawless Plan #38: Uplift others, mask your own grief because it's just a hindrance to your ministry.
Yep. That went well... Until it didn't, which was almost instantaneously. Sure, it was with astonishing ease that I pretended to be super encouraging happy outgoing bubbly Grace. And then... the freezer was where I went to cry.
"My cheeks are red? Oh, it's nothing-- I was just in the freezer."
I'm an expert mask-designer. I wore them all summer long, until one night I went to chapel and heard the testimony of a counselor named Caitlin. Two years before that, her cousin shot himself in the head. The outrageous parallels between our stories still freaks me out a little bit... Although now I know that she was strategically placed in my life. She comforted and encouraged and gave me scripture and told me about God's love and purposes. God gives us pretty good smacks upside the head sometimes, doesn't He?
"You're trying to go through this on your own? Really? You're my child: run to Me. You need to confide in others who love Me, too. You can't do this on your own. But I'm here, and I'm sufficient."
Amen. For the past three years, that was where my testimony ended. That was the conclusion, and it was good. God places people in our lives to comfort us. We can rely on Him to get us through the hard stuff in this world. Yay God.
That sounds sarcastic or something.. Do I sound sarcastic? I can't express my sincerity: It was huge. I was gently and lovingly guided back to the cross by the strongest, most irresistible force in existence. He pulled me out of the ashes and gave me a renewed hope and trust in Him and His promises for our lives. God is GOOD.
But where my faux-sarcasm stems from is this: I seemed to think I could catalog His goodness. That I could look at each hardship or trial and then scroll over to the resolution column and check off each individual instance where His loving kindness prevailed. 
Hardship:           Cousin died
Resolution:     Drawn closer to Christ.
Amen, closed case, the Lord is awesome.

Uhhhh, no. I don't get to confine the Creator of the Universe to an Excel spreadsheet. I don't get to pretend I'm bigger than Him. I don't get to dictate how He uses my experiences. I don't get to control or plan or even fully understand the ways He works.

This summer I had a camper whose best friend had committed suicide a few months before camp. And I was able to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, because I knew what would help and what wouldn't. I knew what promises of God she could cling to and what scripture would be able to pull her through it all. I looked her in the eyes and told her with all honesty that I knew exactly how she was feeling. 

And I KNOW that girl was placed in my cabin. Strategically. Because my gracious, loving Creator had spent the last three years equipping me, through trial, for His ministry.

By His plan alone, for His purposes alone, to His glory alone.

Don't diminish what God can do. Don't minimize His power or His movement in our lives. I mean, really. Who are we that He even cares for us, that He even chooses to use us?