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Here in the U.S. of A., we love our celebrities. Since our nation was founded on the rejection of any sort of monarchy, we don’t have any royal family to obsess over. Fortunately, in an act of supreme benevolence, a parade of actors, actresses, musicians, and models has filled this gap in the American psyche. Ah, the superior lives of the beautiful people!

The problem is, just like any European royal family, many of these celebrities have done little to earn the adulation they receive. For some, their only ticket to stardom has been their good looks. Somehow, they have drawn to themselves crowds of followers, to the point where they are unable to go out in public without attracting far too much attention.

So it seems odd and irreverent to say this, but Jesus was a genuine first-century celebrity—at least at the beginning of his ministry. He generated incredible interest and attracted many followers, but unlike many modern celebrities, he actually deserved the attention. In Mark 1:32–45, we find the beginning of Jesus’ position as a Galilean celebrity, but we also see Jesus’ unusual response to all this attention.

Not a day has passed at Capernaum since Jesus drove an unclean spirit out of a man in the synagogue. Between this and his healing of Simon’s mother-in-law, Jesus has demonstrated an ability to rescue people from both demons and disease. By the time evening rolls around, practically the entire town has surrounded the house. Hope for healing and freedom has been kindled by this preacher from Nazareth. This flame is stoked into a blazing furnace when Jesus responds to their cries for help by healing those who are sick and casting out the demons. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that news will be spreading very fast about this man. What’s strange, though, is that we’re beginning to get the idea that Jesus doesn’t seem to be embracing this publicity. The demons that he is casting out know who he is—that he is more than just another man—yet he won’t let them tell anyone.

Then, long before the sun rises the next morning, Jesus disappears from Simon’s house. The whole town goes looking for him, and Simon and his friends finally find him out in “a desolate place,” far outside of town. He has been spending hours in prayer to God. “Everyone is looking for you,” they appeal to him. Why did Jesus leave? He’s become incredibly popular in Capernaum! What is he doing out in the wilderness?

In the wilderness, Jesus has been praying, talking with God. Here his mind is free from the noise of the crowds; he can rest, and can spend time with his heavenly Father. However, that is not the only reason he has left Capernaum. He tells his disciples, “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came out.” Once again, his preaching ministry is his highest priority; although he is glad to perform miracles, he won’t stay in a town that becomes fixated on his miraculous abilities.

While on a journey between towns, Jesus is approached by a leper pleading to be healed. According to the law of Moses, anyone who had leprosy was pronounced unclean. Since his disease was contagious, he was placed under quarantine for as long as he had leprosy. He had to leave town, live alone in the wilderness, and announce to anyone who came near that he was unclean (Leviticus 13:45–46). This law was necessary to prevent an outbreak of leprosy, but it doomed the leprous person to a cruel and lonely existence. No one wanted to have anything to do with a revolting leper.

For this man, Jesus represents not only a chance to be healed, but a chance to rejoin society again. And Jesus feels such gut-wrenching compassion for him that he reaches out toward him. For the first time since leprosy broke out on his skin, the man feels another human being touch him. And at once, he is healed.

That touch becomes the pivot point of Mark’s account. Up until this time, Jesus could enjoy the company of his followers in town, and he can travel to the wilderness to spend time abiding with God. Not any more. Although he warns the man not to tell anyone how he has been healed, the man is so excited—can you blame him?—that he spreads the news to anyone who will listen. Before long, Jesus can’t enter town anymore, and even the wilderness is no longer a refuge from the crowds. They surround him all the time now, pleading for help. There is no escape from the celebrity status he has been trying to avoid. The irony is that when he touched this leper (an act that should have made him unclean, according to the law), Jesus offered the man a chance to rejoin society again, to leave the wilderness, to live again among other people, to enjoy their company. As for Jesus, he can no longer enjoy the company of his followers but has been driven out into the wilderness by the crowds. He takes the leper’s place.

Mark seems to describe Jesus as being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, he has a mission to accomplish, followers to train, and good news to preach. On the other hand, his compassion for other people is so intense that he feels compelled to help them, even if it means attracting an inconvenient and sometimes dangerous crowd.

I suppose at this point we could turn this story into a moral example for us. We could start feeling ashamed because we don’t love people as much as Jesus did; we could resolve to do a better job of following Jesus’ example. It wouldn’t be inappropriate.

For now, though, let’s not do that. Let’s simply sit for a while and watch Jesus as Mark’s story unfolds. How he longs to spend time alone with his Father; how he wants to pour himself and his teaching into his followers. But he is simply so compassionate that he can’t turn away anyone who pleads with him for help. No one is a nuisance to him. Not even you.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” “You can’t push your morality on me.” “You have no right to order me around.”

We just don’t like authority here in the West. In an increasingly cynical and postmodern culture, people in authority are eyed with suspicion. Authority threatens our sense of autonomy. Even in the church, the role of authority has been questioned—to the point where the bestselling Christian novel, The Shack, has denounced authority as inherently evil. We just don’t like the idea that someone can waltz into our lives and demand that we drop everything and do what he commands.

Maybe that’s part of the reason we have such a big problem following Jesus. He is not afraid to insist on his own authority.

Take a look at today’s passage in Mark. The first scene opens with Jesus walking along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, a deep lake known for its excellent fishing. He sees two sets of fishermen working the family business, calls to them and commands them to follow him, and they obey. Mark doesn’t really get into the backstory of these men (though John’s gospel explains that they already knew who Jesus was). Mark simply offers us a scene so abrupt, so startling, that we are left wondering, “What man possesses authority so great that he simply asks a handful of fisherman to leave their lifelong family business in order to follow him around?” Jewish Rabbis didn’t seek out followers; their followers sought them. Yet here is Jesus, walking up to these men and staking his claim on their lives. As far as he was concerned, they belonged to him. He owned them.

Do you find that last sentence a little threatening? I’m an American citizen, and odds are that you are as well. We like to think we’re free; we like to think that nobody has the right to order us around. The problem is, Jesus has that right. “Follow me,” he insists, “and I will make you become fishers of men.” There is a threatening beauty to Jesus’ statement: it is a command followed by a promise. To men who have no greater ambition than to make money and pass on the family occupation, Jesus offers something far greater. “You won’t be fishing for fish anymore. No, I will turn you into someone who fishes for people. The gospel of the kingdom that you’ve heard me proclaim is the gospel that you will proclaim.” Jesus gives them a new destiny, providing a sense of meaning and purpose to their lives that they have never had before.

So what do Simon, Andrew, James, and John do? Jesus says, “Follow,” so they follow. They leave their jobs and their families and obey him at once. That’s the sort of authority Jesus has.

With his disciples in tow, Jesus shows up in the town of Capernaum along the seashore. He arrives in the local synagogue on the Sabbath day and is invited to teach. When he does, he astonishes everyone there because he teaches them with authority, “and not as the scribes.” The scribes were the local teachers of the law, who would simply parrot what other teachers had said about the Old Testament. Not Jesus! He steps up and teaches his own ideas, and he teaches them with the air of someone who is perfectly within his rights to order you around.

However, there is someone in attendance who doesn’t want to be ordered around. A man with an “unclean spirit”—a demon—tries to shout Jesus down. He wants to shut down Jesus’ teaching, so he instigates a confrontation, shrieking, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God.” The unclean spirit is attempting to wrest control of the situation from Jesus. He goes on the offensive with three statements. First, he demands that Jesus leave him and his demonic comrades alone. Second, he announces that he knows Jesus’ plan—to destroy him and his fellow spirits, who have been harassing the people of Galilee. Third, he knows Jesus’ secret identity. He is “the Holy One of God”—someone with a special relationship with God, if not the Messiah himself! The unclean spirit pulls out all the stops to gain control over Jesus.

Jesus will have none of it. “Be silent, and come out of him!” he demands. Jesus had been teaching, the spirit had tried to shout him down, and now Jesus shuts up the spirit. This demon leaves the man with one final act of defiance, “crying out with a loud voice.” And then—silence. Jesus has the stage to himself. The crowd is astounded—this is a man of impossible authority! And notice the emphasis in the text: “a new teaching with authority”! Jesus’ victory over the unclean spirit demonstrates that his teaching really does have authority. Jesus really does have the right to tell you and me what to do. He’s not afraid to use that right. He owns us.

But the next scene shows the beauty of this authority. After that day’s incredible encounter in the synagogue, Jesus spends the afternoon at Simon’s house. While he is there, his disciples tell him that Simon’s mother-in-law is sick with a fever. Here, we find the first act of faith in Mark’s gospel. The disciples see that Jesus had the authority to drive out an unclean spirit. Maybe he has enough authority to heal her from this dangerous fever! They ask Jesus if he will do something about it.

Think about this. Here is a man with an authority they have never witnessed before. They have no right to demand him to perform a miracle of healing. He is perfectly within his rights to refuse them. Yet Jesus approaches the bed, takes the woman by the hand, and lifts her up. The fever leaves her, and she is finally able to show hospitality to her guests. Jesus wasn’t forced to heal her—he chose to heal her. He uses his authority for our good. He wants to heal us; he wants to free us; he wants to give us a new destiny.

Yes, his authority threatens us. And it’s a lovely sort of threat.

I just checked to make sure, and it turns out that there has never been a President from West Virginia. By saying that, I probably didn’t shock anyone. West Virginia is one of the states in the Union that has a reputation—deserving or not—for being a backwater region. If it’s political power you’re looking for, you travel to Washington, D.C.; if it’s economic success, you go to New York City; if it’s cultural clout, you make your way to Hollywood. You don’t go to West Virginia.

Not unless you’re trying to pull a Jesus.

Jesus doesn’t begin his earthly ministry in an advantageous place. “Now after John was arrested,” Mark relates, “Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God” (1:14). Galilee was sort of the West Virginia of Jesus’ day. If you were a Jew, and you wanted to make something of yourself, you didn’t go to Galilee; you went to Jerusalem. To the Jews, Jerusalem was New York City, Hollywood, and Washington, D.C. all rolled up into one. It was the political, cultural, economic, and religious capital of Judea. That’s where people would have been looking for a Messiah—not in Galilee. (Though they should have been.)

So, right from the outset, we see that Jesus is rather unconventional. He’s not what the Jews are looking for in a divinely anointed king. In fact, he’s not what anyone is looking for in a king. It’s horribly disconcerting when our expectations are set on a Savior whose first public move is to reject those expectations. Jesus is an unconventional man with an unconventional message, summarized by these words: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel” (v 15).

Just like John, Jesus calls everyone to repent—to reject the old way of thinking and living and to accept the new kingdom that is about to break into the world. When he says, “The time is fulfilled,” he’s declaring that his arrival is the fulfillment of history. All of human history has been building to this point; it all has meaning, and that meaning is found in Jesus. Each and every event, no matter how small, has driven the world toward the arrival of this man. Century by century and minute by minute, his appearance has been orchestrated by the Lord of history. Yes, every moment of our lives is infused with careful intent by our Creator, as we wait for the full glory of his kingdom to appear. Even now, everything finds its purpose in Jesus (Romans 11:36).

Jesus declares that a paradigm shift is about to take place, and the world will never be the same; God’s kingdom has drawn near. But what is this kingdom? Who is its king? Certainly, the Jews of Jesus’ day have expectations that the Messiah would drive out the Roman empire and set up a new Jewish kingdom, following in the footsteps of David his ancestor. Perhaps the unconventional arrival of this Galilean preacher is the first clue that God may have different plans. The Jews are right in believing that the Messiah will be their king, but how can this man be their king? Is this how God has chosen to intervene when his people are suffering? Jesus seems to think so—he believes that his appearance has brought God’s new kingdom near. The whole world order is about to be turned upside down; the old kingdom is about to wither away. Things are about to change—fast—and Jesus presents his audience with a choice. Either keep living like you’ve always lived, or change your life immediately in response to this new reality! Jesus isn’t concerned whether his gospel is relevant to his listeners; he pleads for his listeners to be relevant to his gospel.

This question of relevance is one you will have to face today. God’s kingdom has not fully arrived yet, but his triumph is inevitable. For far too long, we have focused ourselves on understanding and manipulating and growing comfortable in the way our society works. We have looked for success as defined by American values and ideals; we have placed our hope in our self-invented dreams and ambitions; we have knotted ourselves into the fabric of the American culture. But all of this will be swept away when the new kingdom is fully and finally established. This is bad news for those who cling to the old kingdom, and the greatest news possible for those who have let it go. All of history is bent toward its King, and when he appears, he will sweep away every illusion of control that we cling to. Jesus is not conventional, and he loves his people too much to befriend their conventional ambitions.

It’s been a cold winter here in Indiana. After last winter, in which the windchill dropped to around –30° F at times, I figured we were due for something a little warmer this time around. It’s true that November and December were unseasonably warm, and it’s true that temperatures have not dropped as low as last winter. However, early this January, the weather stayed cold for long periods of time with no respite. I’m just grateful for a warm house to come home to every day.

It’s times like this that I’m glad I don’t live in the wilderness. That word—wilderness—implies a harsh environment barely able to sustain human life. A winter like this makes everything a wilderness. The other way to make a wilderness is to cover a land with rocks, sand, and scorching heat. Take away any water, and you’ve got yourself the kind of place where no one would want to live. The only people found there are nomads and outcasts. Those who are rich and powerful stay away from the wilderness.

So what’s Jesus doing there?

» Read Mark 1:2–13

Unlike Matthew and Luke, Mark doesn’t begin his story with the birth of Christ. He has another way of telling the humble beginnings of Jesus. Mark’s “Christmas story” begins in the Judean wilderness—a wasteland of hills, hot sun, dust, and precious little water. It’s not a coincidence that Jesus shows up here; his coming was prophesied in the Old Testament by Isaiah and by Malachi. In verses 2–3, Mark quotes Malachi 3:1 and Isaiah 40:3, which together reveal that a messenger will herald the Messiah’s coming. This messenger will call for a highway to be carved into the impassable hills—a highway broad, flat, and straight, fit for a King. This King will make his entrance into the world through the wilderness. Who is this King? Well, in a clever little trick, Mark adjusts and clarifies Malachi’s prophecy. Malachi quoted God as saying, “I send my messenger and he will prepare the way before me.” In Mark, we read him to say, “I send my messenger before your face.” So is the messenger preparing the way for “me”—for God? Or is he preparing the way for “you”—for Jesus? Or could it be…?

With a sly smile, Mark moves on with his story.

In the wilderness, a place where the powerless live, the messenger John explains that this “highway” is really the repentance of God’s people, signified by baptism. If they repent—if they change their attitude and their behavior—they will be forgiven for their sins. But that is not all. John, dressed like a prophet, announces that this forgiveness is only the beginning. “After me,” he declares, “comes he who is mightier than I.” This mightier man will immerse his people in the Holy Spirit. He will soften their hearts and empower them to follow the Lord faithfully (Ezekiel 36:26–27).

Mark doesn’t leave us waiting. The mightier man comes from Nazareth in Galilee to be baptized. Now, everyone else who had been baptized would confess their sins and repent. Not Jesus. When he comes up from the water, heaven is opened, and the Spirit descends on him “like a dove” (verse 10). Then comes a voice from heaven: “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”

Imagine, for a moment, if this had not happened. If Jesus’ baptism had gone the way all of John’s other baptisms had gone, people would assume that he was just like everyone else. He would be seen as a fellow sinner looking for a Messiah. But when God speaks from heaven, he identifies him as his special Son, as someone he dearly loves, as someone who has pleased him in every way. Mark doesn’t say it outright, but he once again hints to us, “This man is not looking for the Messiah. He is the Messiah.” Unlike any other man, Jesus is fully pleasing to God; he has not earned God’s wrath for sin.

The greatest outpouring of God’s wrath in the Old Testament was the great Flood of Noah (Genesis 6–8). The heavens were opened, and the whole world was immersed in waters of judgment. At the end of the Flood, Noah sent out a dove three times to see if there was any dry land left. The third time he did this, the dove did not return. The water had subsided, and Noah knew that God’s wrath had come to an end. Here in Mark’s story, Jesus is immersed in water, but he is not condemned. When the heavens open, there is no wrath. The Spirit descends on him in the form of a dove, and God announces that he is fully pleased with this man. In Jesus, and only in Jesus, there is peace with God.

The Holy Spirit descends on Jesus and drives him again into the wilderness. With Jesus, the mightier one, everything takes place on a colossal scale. Almost in passing, Mark mentions that he stays in the wilderness 40 days, is tempted by Satan, that he lives among wild animals, and that he is served by angels. No big deal. Just another event in the life of Jesus. The Spirit drives him to do great things, until even the great things can only be mentioned briefly.

This sort of understated power and authority is so characteristic of Jesus in Mark’s gospel. And it comes with a promise. The last words that John speaks in this gospel are these: “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Jesus is so mighty that he has authority over the Holy Spirit. He can change people’s hearts; he can take cynical, calloused, bitter people and make them trust him, love him, and worship him. He can take fearful people and make them into heroes of the faith, able to stand against Satan and wild animals, heroes to whom angels minister.

Yes, he can change you.

The unknown Jesus (Mark 1:1)

Out of all the Star Wars movies, my favorite is definitely The Empire Strikes Back. It’s a more mature movie than any of the others, containing a depth of story and characters that is rarely found in the series. And, of course, there’s the surprise ending. It came as a total shock to moviegoers in 1980 to discover that Darth Vader was Luke Skywalker’s father. However, this wasn’t a surprise to me when I first watched the movie. First, it’s become such common knowledge in the last 30 years; it’s almost impossible not to know it already before you watch the movie. Second, I saw Return of the Jedi first. So that kind of spoiled it, too.

If you want to begin a great story with an element of mystery, it’s generally a good idea to keep the plot under wraps. If The Empire Strikes Back had identified Darth Vader as Luke’s father in the opening crawl, it would have ruined everything. With this in mind, let’s take a closer look at the very first verse of the gospel according to Mark:

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
—Mark 1:1

Well, plotwise, that’s something of a letdown. In Mark’s story, Jesus’ disciples don’t identify him as the Christ—the Messiah king that God promised to his people—until halfway through the book (8:29). He is not publicly recognized as the Son of God until he is crucified (15:39). The whole story revolves around two questions: “who is this man?” and “what has he come to do?” The second question is answered by chapters 9 through 16; the first question is taken up in chapters 1 through 8. Yet Mark has given away the answer to the first question before the story even begins! If he were a screenwriter, he’d be fired.

So, let’s stop and consider this. Why would an author reveal the plot of his story before the story even gets started? Usually, it’s because the author understands that his audience already knows the story. The first verse of Mark gives us an important key to interpreting the book. The key is this: Mark wrote his story for Christians.

Isn’t that a bit odd? We would expect the gospels to be geared toward people who have never heard of Jesus and want to learn more about him. Now, it’s true that they are accessible to people who are encountering Jesus for the first time. However, this book was mainly written for people who have already heard about Jesus and have already chosen to believe in Jesus. It was written for people who already know the story.

So what’s the point of writing about a guy whom we already know? Again, there’s only one reason to write about a person with whom the readers are familiar. Mark would only be writing about Jesus if he believed that we, the readers, have an inadequate understanding of who he is and what he came to do. In other words, by writing this book, Mark is telling you, “Jesus is not who you think he is!”

Like his disciples, you and I are invited into a story where we encounter Jesus in all his threatening mystery. This is a Jesus whom we never knew growing up. It’s not flannelgraph Jesus. It’s not Veggie Tales Jesus. It’s not hippie Jesus. This is a Jesus who pushes the boundaries of our sensibilities, who is not afraid to offend us, who is not afraid to confront us because we haven’t learned to trust him. This is a Jesus who will stop at nothing less than total ownership of our lives. This is a Jesus who is not afraid to love us with a love unknown.

This unknown Jesus is the One whom we meet on the pages of Mark’s gospel. My hope as we travel through this story together is that we will see him with new eyes. May these familiar stories take on the unfamiliar air of another world. Let’s meet the real Jesus.

One of the downsides of having a blog is that you actually have to update it regularly if you don’t want to look like a major slacker. I haven’t been very good about this, so I have worn the “slacker” label with shame for quite some time now. What I’d like to do is turn this “disadvantage” of owning a blog into an an advantage. As I prepare to become a pastor, I know that I will need to get used to producing quality teaching material on a weekly basis. A great way to prepare for that is by doing it on my blog.

So here’s the idea: on Monday, I’m going to begin a blog series entitled “Four Minutes in Mark.” The gimmick is that I’m going to work my way through the gospel of Mark, writing articles that should take the average person four minutes to read. I saw somewhere that the average reading spead is 200–250 words per minute, so that comes out to around 800–1000 words per article. Of course, I don’t feel at all tied down to these numbers, but they do give a ballpark figure.

My goal is not only to get used to producing content and sharpening my writing skills, but also to let the Word of God edify me as well. One of the best ways to study God’s Word is to study it as though you were going to teach it. Observe, interpret, and apply—but apply to your own life.

We’ll get started on Monday with Mark 1:1. I’m looking forward to it! I even made a kind of boring logo:

If you’re like me, “2010” feels like it belongs in a science fiction movie rather than on next year’s calendar…but here it comes regardless. And since it’s time for new year’s resolutions, let me suggest that you focus on memorizing scripture this year. I’ve found it to be an incredibly valuable discipline because when God’s Word is always with me, I can more easily interpret the events and relationships of my life through its wisdom.

Since scripture memory can be frustrating at times, here are a few tips that you may find useful in your efforts to store up God’s Word in your heart (Psalm 119:11):

  • Choose a good translation. Some translations might phrase things in a way that is awkward and difficult for you to remember. Memorize out of a translation that is easy for you to use.
  • Go slow and steady. Set aside five minutes each day for scripture memory. You don’t need to take a lot of time, but it does need to be every day! If you try to set a deadline and then “cram” for it the same day, odds are you’ll forget everything you memorized before long.
  • Take shortcuts. Memorizing the chapter and verse references can be very challenging. So many numbers! It’s okay to “cheat” and memorize only the book and chapter number where the verse is found. That’s specific enough to find a verse if you have to look it up—no need to know the exact verse number. If you’re reciting Romans 6:23, you can always tell people, “Paul writes in Romans 6 that ‘the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”
  • Memorize the context. Try memorizing a paragraph or two at a time rather than an assortment of individual verses. It’s easier to remember because God’s Word wasn’t written as a random collection of verses but as complete thoughts spanning paragraphs (in prose) or stanzas (in poetry). By memorizing whole paragraphs or chapters, you can follow the author’s train of thought, and you’ll also see the meaning of the verses in their context! For example, instead of just memorizing Romans 3:23 and then moving on to another verse, try memorizing Romans 3:19–26 one verse at a time.
  • Use memory tools. Try using flashcards and reciting the verses out loud. That way you can see, speak, and hear the words, which can help reinforce your memory. You may want to try writing them out repeatedly if that helps. Use whatever tools help you the most. For example, I use Genius, a virtual flashcard program for Mac computers, which forces me to type out the verse word for word as I recite it aloud.
  • Get some help. Have a friend hold you accountable for memorizing scripture each week. Set goals for you to memorize, and have your friend ask whether you have been setting aside time throughout the week to do it. Have your friend quiz you on the verses you have been assigned.

The most important thing you can know about scripture memory is that there is no magic secret to it. If your heart is not set on treasuring up God’s Word, none of these tips will help. But if you do want to keep his Word with you to guide and protect you, you’ll find a way to memorize it that works best for you.

Dave reviews…Avatar

Trippy!

Have you seen James Cameron’s newest special effects extravaganza yet?  Odds are that you have without even knowing it.  His movie Avatar is the third installment in what I like to call the Dances with Wolves trilogy:

I just told you everything you need to know about the movie’s plot.  In fact, I don’t think spoilers are even possible for a movie like this.  If you’ve seen Dances with Wolves I or II, you already know what happens.  American soldier becomes involved with the technologically inferior enemy culture he is fighting.  He learns the superiority of their ways.  He falls in love with a local lass.  He earns the trust of the natives and switches sides to fight against his own countrymen.  The audience cheers him on as he assaults the very foundation of their civilization.  It was good stuff the first time around.  And the second.  But now that Dances with Wolves III is out, all the characters are shallow cliches, the dialogue is bland and expected, and the plot holes are widening into gaping chasms.

But you aren’t interested in this movie for the plot, are you?  I sure wasn’t!  I had come to see the much-hyped special effects.  In this department, the movie doesn’t disappoint.  It’s pretty spectacular, which it had better be, since the budget of Avatar was greater than the GDP of several small island nations such as Palau (true story).  If you want the full eyeballs-on-fire effect, you’ll want to see it in 3D, like I did.  That’s the theory, anyway.  The reality, as I learned when watching Up, is that you don’t even notice the 3D effects after the first five minutes or so.  So there’s really no point.  Save a couple of bucks and go for the 2D edition.  If you’re feeling generous, you can give me those two bucks.  I promise to spend them wisely (on ice cream).

Even interstellar militant hippies use Crest Whitestrips®.

Avatar definitely blurs the line between reality and CGI until you can’t tell the difference between the two.  It also tries to blur the line between reality and propaganda, though less successfully.  When the evil human colonel announces that he plans to “fight terror with terror” and drive out the natives with a “shock and awe” campaign, it’s fairly obvious what message Cameron is trying to send.  The American imperialists are a bunch of environment-wrecking, native-massacring brutes who are no better than the terrorists whom they fight.  Apparently Cameron had been working on this movie for ten years.  If this was the most intelligent, nuanced message that he could put together in all that time, you’ll have to forgive me for dropping him a few notches in my “top creative minds” list.  This is after he already dropped a few notches for a crappy plot.

So far I’ve been pretty harsh on Avatar, I guess.  I think it’s mostly because I’ve gradually grown accustomed to movies with huge special effects.  I suppose I’ve mellowed out to the point where I don’t care about that junk anymore.  Just give me a movie with a worthwhile plot and characters.  Like, say, Dances with Wolves I and II.  Except that the first Dances with Wolves was really long, so I don’t think I want to sit through that.  (Did I mention that Avatar is three hours long?)

Papyrus: cool like wearing Puma shoes.

All right, we’ve gotten past the important stuff, so now let’s waste time on a minor quibble.  Whenever the natives (the Na’vi) talk in their own language, the movie helpfully offers subtitles…in Papyrus font.  This is kinda dorky, but I hate Papyrus font.  It’s almost as bad as Comic Sans.  It’s always used whenever a document is meant to look “ancient,” but it only makes it look hokey and low-budget because everybody uses that font for everything.  It should not be used anymore, forever.  So that’s my helpful tip of the day.  If you hadn’t already given me two bucks earlier in this review, now would be a good time to do so.

Enough ranting!  It’s time to rate the movie.  Here’s my tried-and-true-and-shamelessly-subjective system:

  • I would pay money to see it again ($$$$).
  • I would see it again if someone gave me a free ticket ($$$).
  • I wouldn’t see it again even if someone gave me a free ticket ($$).
  • I wouldn’t see it again even if someone paid me to go ($).

And Avatar gets $$¢ (two dollars and change).  If you’re still interested in seeing the movie, don’t wait until it comes out on DVD (or Blu-ray, if you’re rich).  You’ll want to watch this on as big a screen as possible.

This perspective on the single life is the hardest for me.  I’ve realized lately that trusting the Lord is something I tend to resist.  I like to have all my theology worked out, all my plans in place, every contingency sorted out in my mind.  I don’t like to have to do anything that requires an absolute trust in the faithfulness of the Lord.  Yet this is the sort of faith that is required of all of us.  It’s the faith of Abraham.

Abraham’s faith is scary:  “Now the LORD said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.…So Abram went, as the LORD had told him’” (Genesis 12:1, 4).  The author of Hebrews explains:

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance.  And he went out, not knowing where he was going.  By faith he went to live in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, living in tents with Isaac and Jacob, heirs with him of the same promise.  For he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God. (Hebrews 11:8–10)

We learn three things here.  First, this was an act of faith on Abraham’s part.  He obeyed “by faith.” We who follow Christ are justified by faith, and that same faith is what drives us to obey the Lord even when the way isn’t clear.  When we do hard things for God because we trust him to take care of us, we work out our salvation (Philippians 2:12).  Our faith is completed by our works because works are the natural response of faith (James 2:22); you can’t tease them apart since they are bound so close together.

Foggy roadSecond, this act of faith was a huge risk.  Abraham was leaving everything that was familiar to him—his family, his city, his culture.  He had no idea where he was going.  He had no idea what he would find when he got there.  The road was long and dangerous, along wilderness roads rife with bandits, away from the safety of the city of Haran.

Third, he left this city because he was looking forward to “the city that has foundations,” what is later called “the city that is to come” (13:14).  Its designer and its builder is God.  In this city there would be safety and rest for the weary traveler.  When we look toward this city—the heavenly Jerusalem, where God dwells with his people (Revelation 21:2–3), we gain the courage we need to face any challenges that come our way.  We know that God will preserve us for it and that he will welcome us home with open arms to spend eternity with him.  We are safe in the hands of the sovereign Lord who has always loved us and always will.

That’s why trusting the Lord is so important, whether you’re single or married, young or old, man or woman.  Without it, we can’t do anything to please God, “for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him” (Hebrews 11:6).  If we seek him, trusting that he will reward our search for him by revealing his loving presence to us, there is no trial, no suffering so great that we cannot handle it; there is  no opportunity that we cannot seize to glorify him.

For someone who is single, faith can express itself in many ways.  I think we’ve lost sight of this.  Whenever I see the phrase “trust in the Lord” applied to a single person, it’s almost always in the context of waiting for marriage.  The prototypical narrative, found in Christian books and articles and personal testimonies, goes something like this:  someone really wants to get married badly, but finally learns to trust in the Lord, experiences a wonderful feeling of peace about it, no longer seeks a spouse, and then God dumps a man or woman in that person’s lap uninvited, and they get married and live happily ever after.  Sometimes this does happen.  But I wonder whether many people reduce it to a formula:  God won’t give you what you want until you don’t want it.  Really?  Is God some sort of killjoy?  Is he playing games with us?  “Nope, you can’t have that!  Oh wait, you don’t want it now?  Too bad, I’m giving it to you anyway!”  This is not always how God works.  Trusting in the Lord always means that we rest in his sovereign will, but it doesn’t always mean that we sit back and do nothing.

If you are single, there are actually many different ways you can trust the Lord.  Maybe more than one of these applies to your situation:

  • You can be content to remain single, trusting that you don’t have to be married for the Lord to use you in remarkable ways (in fact, trusting that you can serve him in ways a married person never could!).
  • You can give up worrying about whether or not you will find a spouse, knowing that the Lord will give you what is best for you (Romans 8:28), that his grace is sufficient to bring you through this season of pain (2 Corinthians 12:9), and that he will never abandon you (Hebrews 13:5).
  • You can stop pursuing, in your actions and in your mind, men or women who aren’t believers or who aren’t eagerly following the Lord.  You trust that if you pursue a relationship with Jesus Christ, it will bring you far more joy than a relationship with anyone else ever could.
  • You can stop setting impossible standards for a spouse, trusting that the Holy Spirit will always be working to sanctify both you and your husband or wife.
  • You can have the courage you need to ask out that young woman you’re interested in, because you trust that the Lord will not abandon you even if you are rejected.  You will not fear; what can man do to you?  (Hebrews 13:5–6)
  • You can have the courage to ask that young woman to marry you, trusting the Lord that he will always be there even as your whole life is rearranged and everything you understand and know is thrown out the window.
  • You can have the courage to break up with your boyfriend or girlfriend, trusting the Lord to protect you and to bring you through any ensuing trials.
  • You can trust the Lord after being dumped, knowing that he is present in the deepest darkness and will bring you through it (Psalm 23:4).  His own Son was forsaken so that you would never be abandoned.

What is wonderful is that there are so many ways to trust the Lord!  You might even face a decision where there is no “right” or “wrong” answer—just a choice of how you will express your faith in God.  Here’s the bottom line, delivered with a heavy dose of hyperbole:  whether you marry, and who you marry, are not important questions.  What’s truly important is that you act out of faith in a gracious God, showing the world how great his faithfulness really is.  His steadfast love for you will never cease.  Every morning, you will see his mercy to you in new and precious ways.  He has given himself to you.  Hope in him.  (Lamentations 3:22–23)

If you read the last post, you’re probably worried that this one will be another essay of outrageous length.  Well, don’t worry!  This one is more straightforward.  I won’t devote quite as much space to this particular “lens” through which the single life comes into focus.  That’s not because this perspective is less important; it’s because this one is easier to explain.

First of all, if you are single, you have a unique opportunity to serve the Lord. This is the reason that Paul praises the single life in 1 Corinthians 7.  He explains:

I want you to be free from anxieties.  The unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord.  But the married man is anxious about worldly things, how to please his wife, and his interests are divided.  And the unmarried or betrothed woman is anxious about the things of the Lord, how to be holy in body and spirit.  But the married woman is anxious about worldly things, how to please her husband. (vv. 32–34)

Like I said—pretty straightforward!  While there’s no denying that married people can serve the Lord by behaving appropriately toward their spouses (Eph 5:22–33), single people have much more free time and energy to serve the Lord in other ways.  For example, an unmarried man or woman may have more time to help out with child care at the church, or volunteer at a local animal shelter, or visit church members in the hospital, or pray for the salvation of friends who are not believers.  Open doorHe or she doesn’t have the pressing concern of pleasing a spouse or taking care of a child.  If you are single, you are flexible and free to serve the Lord in many ways that a married person is not!  What a great privilege this is!

Here’s the problem, though.  It’s really easy to become self-indulgent as a single person.  It’s really easy to spend your money on yourself, to buy things that offer a fleeting sense of pleasure, to waste hours on mere entertainment, to spend time only with people whose company you enjoy, or to pour all of your energy into hobbies that don’t contribute to the well-being of others and demonstrate the supremacy of Jesus Christ.  Paul warns, “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31).  Everything we do should be done because we want God to be seen as great by ourselves and by others.  For example, this means that we only take time to relax because we want to regain the energy needed to serve the Lord and serve other people!  In his letter to the Galatian church, Paul warns believers who are freed from slavery to the law of Moses, “Do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another” (5:13).  We are not bound to the law; we are not required to keep it in order to be declared righteous by God.  But we were not set free just so that we can indulge ourselves however we please.  We were set free to “walk by the Spirit” (v. 16).  Don’t waste this opportunity as a single person to serve the Lord!

Now, what about those who would rather not remain single?  Paul recognizes that not everyone has been given the spiritual gifting necessary to go without marriage (1 Corinthians 7:7–8).  To those whom God has not given this gift, he says, “If they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry.  For it is better to marry than to be aflame with passion” (v. 9).  This truly is a counter-cultural solution to sexual temptation!  In my Ask the Pastors article on sex and the single person, I argued that sexual desire should encourage a single person to seek marriage, which should in turn encourage him or her to become the kind of person who can get married.  This, I believe, is the second opportunity presented by the single life—the opportunity to grow up. If you are single but want to be married, take full advantage of this time to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Peter 3:18).  Grow up to salvation through the pure spiritual milk of the gospel (1 Peter 2:2).  Grow up as part of a church community (Ephesians 4:15–16).  Grow up to become the kind of man or woman who is a faithful servant and friend of God.  In particular, train yourself for marriage:  learn how to forgive, how to communicate, how to manage your money responsibly, how to use your time well, how to raise children.  It’s pretty ridiculous that we spend twelve years of schooling plus college to train ourselves for our careers, but we think six hours of premarital counseling will be enough to train us for our marriages.  Attach yourself to a godly family in your church; watch and learn from them.  Volunteer in the church nursery, teach a Sunday School class, or offer to babysit for families in the church.  Prepare for marriage with more earnestness than you would prepare for your career.  After all, who would be bold enough to insist that your career is more important than your family?

The single life is a time of great opportunity.  It is not a time to spend hours in front of the TV or computer, to spend money selfishly, to pour oneself into activities of no lasting value.  It is a time to glorify the Lord by serving him and by growing up to be a mature man or woman.

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