Manthano: Centurion

In my daily Bible reading, I've now worked through 33 chapters of Ezekiel. After reading Lamentations, I was told that these oracles of the LORD would offer a more hopeful message... and I think I agree it does, but not at all as I originally expected it would.

The book opens with spectacular visions (four creatures with four faces as the chariot wheels of a heavenly throne) and peculiar signs (re-enacting Jerusalem's imminent downfall on a Lego-scale of bricks and dirt). God gives Ezekiel a commission, but also fair warning-- these people are a rebellious house who will mock and glower and refuse to listen, but speak boldly! The son of man is then given a scroll of mourning, lamentation, and woe to ingest - which somehow tastes as sweet as honey in the mouth - and sent out as Israel's watchmen to utter the LORD's impending judgment.

Mourning and lamentation and woe, indeed. These summarize the meat of the prophetic book, in which God rages against Israel in a way directly compared with a betrayed husband.

The children of Abraham now have whoring hearts, trusting in the possession of their land and the security of foreign armies. They lean on might and self-righteousness, so that they may pursue idols and every injustice. They listen to Ezekiel as someone who shares quaint proverbs and nice sounding words... not actually listening or doing what they are told.

God says He will spend all His fury-- bringing a sword against those in the cities, wild beasts against the survivors in the wilderness, and plague against any who hide in caves or strongholds. When their nation is humiliated in the sight of all other nations, and the remnant is completely exiled from their promised land... then they will know that the God of Israel is the LORD.

How does the book, then, offer a hopeful message?

In some small portions there is hope - saying that God will leave a remnant, and He will give them a new heart to truly be His obedient chosen people, and His longing is for wicked people to turn back to Him - but these glimmers do not account for the book in its entirety.

Instead, I've learned to search for hope even within the most dark and wrathful chapters. Our God is not satisfied with our selfish hypocrisy, and will discipline us with any affliction necessary so that we will wholly belong to Him. Our God is in control over the greatest empires, using their destruction at times but impartially judging how they treat His beloved people. Our God can be encountered in places of shame and suffering.

Although I've written far less analytical entries in my journey through Ezekiel, it did encourage me to compose personal reflections, a devotional poem, and this overview blog post. It made me love God more for His jealousy and wrath. I've hated sin more and adopted a more bold attitude in the face of opposition. I've contemplated how my own nation fits the same motifs of self-reliance and rebellion, while also resting in the comfort that God's people (even in the U.S.) are today given regenerate hearts and made new creations.

I think most of all, the LORD's communication through Ezekiel renews my courage as I move forward from my own bittersweet humiliation, and awakens a passion to make Jesus known among distant, desolate lands and defeated banners.

Manthano: Concerning Hobbits

I wanted to prioritize reading The Hobbit before I venture to Zambia, because I knew I would find in its pages inspiration and imagery to relate with my own adventure. Last night, as I was on the edge of irrational despair and realistically desperate prayers, I began reading the copy Nick gave me, and discovered the delicious details of spiritual parallels therein.

First, we have the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. For fifty years, he lived in a safe place, the Shire, and an affluent home, Bag End. His neighbors love the little things in life - comfort, company, cultivation - but frown upon adventure, as it robs them of these enjoyments on their own terms. All except a single peculiar clan, the Tooks, who encountered the meddling wizard Gandalf. Bilbo’s mother Belladonna was a Took, although she took no more expeditions after marrying Bungo and having her fortune spent to build their house.

I can relate, because I love my home and relish solitude. This part of me still longs for a companion, but would rest content at sharing my own Bag End with her, where others are welcome to visit, but within respectable (predictable) reason. Despite my proximity to the Pacific Coast and Sierra Mountains, these natural landmarks have functioned more as barriers than frontiers, or as picnics to punctuate life within the confines of California’s borders. When my family took a vacation in Mexico I became ill, and my journey to Cambodia felt similarly at the time… so I assumed that my calling would remain at home, unless my future spouse insisted on moving, in which case I would simply find a new place to settle down and relax.

My expectations were gloriously shattered, as were Bilbo’s once the wizard came to his door. Gandalf, who did not take “no” for an answer, who marked the home of Bilbo anyway, who is gracious with someone who doubts and shrieks and faints at the mere possibility of never returning home, who patiently coaxes out the dormant Took side of him, and who adamantly advocates for the hobbit’s ability… proclaiming that his choice of Bilbo confirms he is now a burglar, or shall become one when the time comes, and there is far more potential within him than the hobbit or the others can perceive.

Should we think of Jesus as an old man? I would think He would ultimately be as youthful as He is wizened, although I see some of that in Gandalf’s quickness for laughter. Perhaps it is not the vulnerability of a venerable age itself, but how it initially conceals an unexpected insight and power, that makes the wizard a fitting parallel for our Lord and Savior. Surely, Jesus has done everything for me that Gandalf did for Bilbo… refusing my refusal, choosing me, and continually standing up for my own hidden potential. Whether it’s from my own Took side - originating in the virtual adventures I engaged in from childhood and my father’s enduring dream to serve in ministry - or simply by the calling and new creation that Jesus entrusts to me, there’s a passion for a great quest beckoned out of my very blood, made possible by He who goes before me.

Finally, there are dwarves. In contrast to Bilbo’s sequence of pleasantries and invitation for tea (despite his honest frustration at their surprise arrival), these bearded folk starkly state “At your service,” march past you to place their hood on your peg, and begin to eat not only your seed cakes, but the buttered scones too! They are not rude, but they seize hospitality in confidence, and express brotherly love without filters of second thought. Most importantly, the have no home, and instead place their hope on regaining the inheritance they once lost.

I do not yet know what people I will live among. I cannot predict the specific cultural values of hospitality, formality, and affection that I will be exposed to. However, I know that anywhere I go beyond the familiar Western world, I expect to encounter believers and fellow missionaries who are very much like dwarves (at least to me). These are the kinds of people God has newly surrounded me with. Those who do not hide behind their manners. Those who embrace the adventure of following God and tearing down self-built walls. Those who are unafraid to say I love you, and say it full of meaning.

No more stagnation within the testing chamber of my own control. No more ignorance to the needs of the world beyond, where humans and other beings hang in the balance. No more hesitation from truly loving others. Me, Jesus, and the comrades He chooses for me. A clear calling, personal and Biblical, to reclaim from beneath dragons a treasure long ago promised to every people.

A real and unexpected adventure.

Talu: Heard Far Away

They pitched tents surrounding that single stone slab, amidst forgotten heaps of rubble-- families from Kiriath Jearim to Mount Nebo; descendants from the lineage of Levi and Solomon’s servants; singers, scribes, ministers, masons, carpenters, priests, and common people. Together, their assembly numbered 42,360.

They arrived from Babylon, dispersed children of an exiled remnant… now entrusted with gold and silver treasures, and most of all with the king’s commission to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple-- the house the LORD, the living God of Israel.

They laid the first layer of foundation at noon that day, and although the livestock reserved for sacrifices could not be spent on such an early accomplishment... they nonetheless feasted into the evening hours on those provisions they could always spare-- music.

Brazen trumpets and boisterous cymbals electrified the night air. Priests leading worship brought out extravagant, jewel-encrusted vestments of a former generation, glimmering with new life in the reflected light of so many fires. Singers, both native Jewish and hired Gentile, lifted harmonious psalms of praise into the stars above and to the throne of He who placed them.

Yehovah towb checed Yisra'el `owlam!

Didasko: A Sabbath Day

Imagine if we added an eighth day to every week, where there is no work or school... only free time and rest. How would this impact the other days of your week?

In real life, changing the calendar this way would have too many consequences... but the Bible suggests a way of getting the most out of rest, which provides virtually the same benefits. This ancient practice - to guard a special resting day or "keep the Sabbath holy" - is making a lifestyle choice more rewarding than any productivity time you sacrifice.

For Christians, this should be a distinguishing feature of our faith. While Islam and Mormonism promote a tireless tunnel vision toward good works, Jesus offers grace (Hebrews 4)-- inviting us to abide, and to produce fruit out of this surrender. Intellectually, we understand this, but guarding a Sabbath day (not out of legalism, but from joyful choice) should help us to walk in it. Why would we assume our theoretical assent to this doctrine is enough, when the pattern of our week and values of our culture all emphasize our worth through effort?

For us Americans, members of the most overworked country in the world by measure of tracked and untracked hours, we could stand to listen, consider why the rest of the world seems "lazy" in our eyes, and reform our own time spent in relaxation.

Also, as college students, we are under constant threat of our free time being invaded with homework. For as much as we laugh at our own procrastination, it's questionable whether our carefree moments on social media or YouTube are actually rejuvenating us... when we are nagged on and off with guilt and stress that whole time.

From my own experience, I've tested this advice by guarding a weekly time of rest (usually between Friday evening and Saturday morning). I've found this discipline to be immensely enjoyable and a blessing for the following days of work.

If you choose to protect a special day off, the specific activities you do will vary personally, but here is how I've learned to make the most of your rest-- make it liberating, and make it life-giving.

Philosophia: Soli Deo Gloria

Yesterday (Thursday) at 3:30pm, I had a speech due for my public speaking class. It was only 1-2 minutes, had no grading criteria (just that I do it and pass), and the prompt was simply to introduce myself… but I found myself feeling tense through that whole morning and afternoon. I stumbled through rehearsing my outline - written that very day - while pushing through several minor yet acutely nagging physical discomforts. The end result was worth it.

As I stood before my classmates and began to speak, the anxiety melted away, and I had already realized from hearing their speeches that my words could encourage them. Several admitted uncertainty for what they want to do with their life, and regret for past choices. A few expressed an interest in serving their community, or related how seeing third world nations opened their eyes and compelled them to do something.

I chose to share the meaning of my full name: Taylor Charles Lewis, roughly translated to ‘he who cuts, and is manly, and is famous at war.’ I posed the question, “How can a gentle, home-loving introvert be expected to live up to that name?”

Looking back at my childhood, I had a fascination for any story with an adventure… and as I’ve grown, life seems more and more like an adventure. For as much as we try to figure out who we are and what we will do, we honestly don’t know. When my parents had to drag me to youth group 7 years ago and I swore I would never enter it again once I turned 18, I did not anticipate I would be an involved and employed member of said church. Or more recently, when I thought I knew my career path for what is safe and makes use of my primary talents, I could not foresee how my plans would collapse and a new opportunity to receive missions training in Africa would fall on my lap because of it, for however that will guide the course of my future.

I told the class we don’t always know, and that’s okay. It’s what makes life an adventure, if we choose to enjoy it that way. And admittedly, I’m really not who you would expect to be a sword-swinging, manly warrior dude… but the best stories involve an unlikely hero, who is willing to give himself to something greater than his own self.

Now, my classmates clapped enthusiastically and I could see the respect in their eyes. I connected with them through my story, and for that I am glad. I found out that I have several spiritual siblings in my class-- one who was a missionary kid in Thailand, and another who sat beside me this whole time and traveled to the Dominican Republic. I am grateful.

I don’t know if the demographic of my class is skewed, whether by those who willingly embrace public speaking, or by socio-economic background, or by random chance… but I see a peculiar quality somewhere among my generation, offering both hope and challenge.

Hope, because my peers are growing increasingly disillusioned with wealth, reputation, and even marriage (for better and worse). We’re ambitious and longing to take action, yet the American dream and Disney happy ending are losing their grip, causing millennials to look to a global stage for the promise of impact and purpose. I can share a glimpse of my testimony and interest in missions, while still effectively connecting with the religious nones.

Challenge, because although my generation is captivated by the idea of living for a purpose larger than themselves, they still carry heavy shackles against that earnest endeavor. We’re still individualistic by nature; contributing to community is nice so long as it makes us feel meaningful and leaves a lasting legacy, but we won’t serve beyond the limit of obligation, or ever sacrifice our distinct identity for the collective whole. We’re fired up for every noble cause which yields rewarding results... yet numb to the day-by-day need for personal integrity, or the thankless task of guarding rational truth.

The answer is God’s glory, and God’s glory alone. Human compassion will give way to weariness, whether it’s for starving children or lost souls. Social activism, absent of a pure heart rooted in divine reason, will cave in on itself. Only the unchanging, unending zeal for seeing Yahweh honored - as He always deserved, and created us to accomplish from the beginning - will endure the race. When my generation understands this, they will not only be passionate for participating in a story larger than their own… but we will also be radiant, Spirit-filled servants and leaders capable of carrying it out, so that blessings will flow through all nations and glory will return to its rightful reigning King.

Manthano: I'm a Missionary

I’ve begun the realization that I am a missionary, right this moment.

I always have been a missionary, yet my understanding of this truth is deeper than before. There’s a difference between professing that Jesus’ universal commission sends us all out, and allowing that knowledge to invigorate my attitude and interactions in all things.

I’m planning to receive training as a missionary next summer, which definitely kindles excitement and will lend practical credibility to such a claim… yet I still mean something more, unique and partly independent from my upcoming adventures in Zambia.

Friends tell me that God gifted me in multiple ways. When I saw my primary giftings being wisdom and teaching, I thought that a career in writing or editing (with volunteer ministry on the side) would best dispense insight to a mass audience. Now I see in my Spirit-renewed self characteristics such as apostleship to relate and share the Gospel with a variety of people, shepherding to offer sincere care and counsel for the Christian body, and faith for embracing experiences in which my utter need for God is exposed.

Put simply, I see in myself giftings for impacting souls and playing a direct, connective role in the heavenly kingdom. Rather than making a career from my own natural talents and intellectual contributions, I will personally encourage my brothers and sisters, so they can each advance the kingdom in a unique way.

It’s what I want to do. I can always write on the side, as I’ve been blessed to do even for the audience at Geeks Under Grace, and perhaps I’ll even be crafting novels in the eternal new heaven-earth. Serving spiritual needs is a more urgent calling, where I find the greatest reward and passion.

God seems to want me set apart to Him and for building up His bride. I’m going to step forward in faith - whether that means reluctantly adventuring abroad or ministering in the familiarity of my local community - and view each day as the Lord training me toward that end.

Manthano: Plant Friends

This is Barnabas, the Japanese Black Pine. His Greek name means "son of encouragement" and is based on the faithful companion who followed Paul. Brandon gave me a bonsai starter kit for my birthday, two years ago. From that packet of several seeds, Barnabas and his twin sister Ruth emerged from the earth.

Unfortunately, his Old Testament sibling did not survive long after, but Barnabas is nonetheless a resilient and encouraging (if awkwardly spindly) green poofball.

Here's Hoshiko, the Gardenia. Her Japanese name means "child of the star" and alludes to the Biblical Esther. She was green and beautiful with all her intricate leaves when I received her, as a two-year dating anniversary gift from Rachel. However, she's also a very sensitive plant. I watched lifeless brown spread across her branches even as my relationship came to a close, and my well-intentioned yet foolish attempts to nurture her only drowned her roots and deprived her of the sun. I don't know if her roots are rotted beyond recovery or not. Even if they are intact, she won't ever look the same. Rachel told me not to give up, though, so I will carefully water and wait.

I call her Chara, pronounced with the "char" as in burning. She's a really interesting red plant called a fire fern (actually from the woodsorrel genus). Her name comes from the Greek word for joy.

Less than ideal travel conditions and coldness left her with some holes and residue marring her leaves, but I find her to be awesome despite and through that weathering. She's much more adaptable, rotates her leaves to follow the sun, and twitches on occasion.
She blossomed prematurely because of the sudden warmth and sunlight after her sojourn - so that those flowers haven't grown any bigger since - but it's a very cool glimpse of spring. Even if flowers, leaves, and stems are all destroyed, her life is stored within bulbs under the soil, so that she can always regrow and even multiply.