This Day in History: God Breaks a Heart of Stone

By Eugene C. Scott

What if the place Jesus spent his last days could tell its story? The story of how God broke a heart of stone.

Granite to the core–a heart of stone, they said. And they were right. That the death and destruction, tragedy and violence I’ve witnessed in my 6,000 plus years on this earth would have crushed anything less than stone is true.  But even a heart of stone, they claimed, should have turned to dust, and like grains of sand been scattered in the desert wind.

In my long life I was smashed and left desolate by Canaan, Egypt, Philistia, Assyria, Babylon, Greece, and Rome. Only to rise up again. Why? How?

I can’t say. Knowing such things does not always come with age. I can say this. At one time I was the proudest of my kind. I weathered siege after siege because I was proud and strong. They all desired me. My temple was unrivaled. They say gods walked my streets. Though–again–I can’t say. I did not pay much attention to such things, until . . . .

. . . . until the week of the Jewish Passover in the days when Rome thought she owned me. A desert flea of a Jew, lauded as a king by a few hundred peasants, rode a scrawny colt through my east gate. I paid little mind. My walls were full of Jewish pilgrims, crawling through my alleys like ants. I blinked and forgot him. Then on Yom Reeve, the fourth day of the week, counted in the Jewish fashion–sundown to sundown–and the day before the Passover, this Jew tickled my ribs and woke me from my slumber.

“Do you see all these things?” this man with only one ratty robe asked, pointing to the temple shining like a moon on my highest hill. Those with him nodded recognizing my magnificence.

“I tell you the truth,” he said, “not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be torn down.”

I laughed. The Babylonians had torn down my temple, but it rose from the dust; Alexander the Great had considered turning the temple to ruble but wisely reconsidered; Antiochus Epiphanies had desecrated her; he later paid dearly. And today she towered still. Each time my temple was sacked she rose again more magnificent than before. Not one stone left on another! Who did this man think he was? God?

I was not sure why what this man said mattered at all. Why I cared. I was one of the greatest cities of stone ever raised up on a desert hill. He was dust.

It may be because seventy years later his prediction came true. Rome tore me stone from stone and my temple still lies in its grave.

It may also be because of what he said to me, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing. Look, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

This man saw me for what I was, a stone facade. My name “The City of Peace” has never been true. And it never will be, until he returns to walk my streets again. A city cannot bring peace, not the kind her people need. But can a city have a heart, stone or otherwise, you may ask? I can only speak for myself. Two days after he predicted my ruin–on a hill that looked like a skull–the last Jewish prophet to enter my gates wet my dirt with his innocent blood. I watched him breathe his last. I shuddered and that night my heart of stone broke.

Today, 2,000 years later I long to feel his sandals on my stone. I will say, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”

If Jesus saw the art in me, a hard, proud city of stone, think of what he can see in you.

Read Matthew 23:37-24:1-51, Matthew 26:3-5, Mark 13:1-37, Mark 14:1-2, Luke 22:1-2.

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Also, go to tnc3.org for info on how The Neighborhood Church is remembering this week in history.

Two thousand years ago this week one man turned history upside down. I would give anything to have been there, seen him, heard his voice. Instead we can only use our imaginations to re-enter ancient history. Each day this week, called Holy Week, we are going look at this day in ancient history through the eyes of a fictional character who witnessed part of that day as Jesus lived it. Join us as we believe a better story: the greatest, truest story ever told.

How to Be a Revolution: Read Your Bible

By Eugene C. Scott

Revolution! Facebook–and Twitter even–is being given partial credit for the overthrow of dictator Hasni Mubarak in Egypt. Protesters logged on to Facebook to share information and to gain an unfettered audience for their cause. Words–freely and virally disseminated–drove the Egyptian revolution. Thus informed and motivated, thousands of brave men and women stepped out of the virtual world and into the real one to face bullets, rocks, sticks, imprisonment and possibly death in order to gain freedom. We salute them and pray freedom takes root and grows as wild as weeds.

But just as Al Gore did not invent the Internet, so the Internet did not invent freedom of thought and expression. As seismic as its impact has been, the world wide web is simply the latest version–Freedom.4.0 so to speak–in a long line of word weapons we have wielded in the fight for freedom.

 

Original case for the 1611 Bible

Ironically 2011 is the 400th anniversary of one of human history’s greatest triumphs of the written word in our continuing battle for freedom. Similar to how we witnessed the successful end of the Egyptian protests (we hope and pray), people in the year 1611 saw the end of a violent 200 year revolution. With words, and fierce faith and determination, the protestors finally triumphed.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Before that–some two thousand years ago–Jesus, not the written word but the living Word, started a revolution in another time of severe economic, political, and religious oppression delivering us freedom never before imagined. This freedom promised not the mere overthrow of a despot dictator or corrupt system but rather the release of our bodies, minds and spirits from the tyranny of sin and corruption. We no longer had to cower to our own fears, cruelties, hates, frailties, and failures. Nor those of others.  Jesus proclaimed the truth would set us free.

What truth? That his life, death, and resurrection freed us from guilt, fear and separation from our Creator. Lean not on a ruler, president, government, religious system, or philosophy for what you need. These are blank-eyed idols. Dead. Jesus said. Then Jesus even conquered that ultimate tyrant: death.

In words inspired by God himself, Jesus’ followers wrote down the story and truth of Jesus’ revolution. Slowly–but just as virally as if the very air carried the story–the Word spread. First slaves, women and children learned they were valued and free in Christ. Boldly they struck out to live new lives. Then others bravely joined in. Often facing ridicule, torture, and death for their beliefs. Eventually even kings, dictators, and governments bent their knees to Christ the different kind of king. The good news of freedom in Christ conquered much of the world. Even the Roman Empire was reborn, this time with a soul.

Then slow tragedy struck. The Word, the story loved and lived by so many, was captured by the elite. Written in Latin, a language common folk no longer spoke, this great story of freedom disappeared from the streets and alleys and kitchens and living rooms and squares and markets of life. With the written Word locked in monasteries, cellars, libraries, studies, and castles, freedom vanished. The truth of Jesus‘ kind of freedom became a mere shadow of itself, like a wonderful childhood story heard before the fire but now only vaguely remembered and smiled at. Worse yet, the elite added untrue elements to the story. With their elite and twisted knowledge and power, these corrupt ones sucked freedom, faith, belief, truth, and life from their people like early versions of J.K. Rowling’s dementors.

But God kept for himself a remnant, a faithful few who read God’s amazing story in Latin and Greek and Hebrew and saw the truth shining from its pages like a search light in a dark sky. Then for two hundred years this remnant, men–and probably women too but unfortunately history did not record them–with names like Wycliffe, Huss, Gutenberg, Erasmus, Tyndale, Luther, Knox, Calvin, and Cranmer began to love and live Jesus’ original story again. Not only that, they began to retell it–translate and publish it–in the language of the people: common German, French, and finally English. Many died for this. Burned at the stake, tortured, shunned, hated. But they kept protesting, fighting.

Then in 1611 God drew all the work and struggle into one beautiful Book. That was the year King James authorized the publishing of Jesus’ revolutionary story in common, though beautiful and poetic, English. Finally, those translating and publishing this scared story would not be held in contempt or killed for making it available to the common people. Freedom was reborn.

Today we–and even the Muslim Egyptian protestors–are children of those brave revolutionaries. The historical strings that tie us to these ancient protestors (today called Protestants) have been lost, cut, and often purposefully obscured. But their God given love for Jesus and his truth about freedom drove them to fight against religious and political oppression. We bask in their work. Much of our belief in freedom of speech and our obsession with free thinking, learning, and expressing our beliefs and ideas is rooted in the story of Jesus–who spoke out against religious oppression long ago–and in the story of those who followed him and believed that every person should have access to this book of truth.

Today we call that book the Bible. Four hundred years ago this year, the Authorized King James version of the Bible was first published. Since then, it is the “most published book in the world . . the only book with one billion copies in print.” The King James Bible, along with its predecessors and descendants is a book of revolution: personal, national and international.

There is probably a copy of it, looking deceptively quaint, hidden somewhere in your house. Happy four hundredth birthday King James! Break out the Book and celebrate.

Eugene C. Scott writes the Wednesday Neighborhood Cafe blog.  If you’re reading this on Facebook and you’d like to join the conversation, click here. www.bibleconversation.com. Eugene co-pastors The Neighborhood Church in Littleton, CO

I’m Mad as Hell and I’m Not Going to Take it Anymore

Hockey may be hazardous to your health. Just ask Bryan Allison, who was hospitalized a few years ago after a hockey game in Buffalo, NY. What’s the big deal? Hockey players get hurt, you say. Except Allison isn’t a hockey player; he’s a fan, who hurt himself after viewing a thirteen year-old video tape of his favorite NHL team playing a 1989 playoff game.

Like a personal version of Groundhog Day, his team lost again–just like the first time he watched the game live. And just like the first time he watched, Bryan Allison became furious. Suddenly Allison hefted the TV and threw it off his second floor balcony. The only problem was Allison forgot to let go and plunged with the TV to the ground. In my book, the TV was not all Bryan Allison couldn’t let go of. Anger, literally and figuratively, drug Allison down.

Eugene C. Scott joins Mike in writing A Daily Bible Conversation twice a week.

TODAY’S READING (click here to view today’s reading online)

Ezekiel 37:1-38:23

James 1:19-2:17

Psalm 117:1-2

Proverbs 28:1

If you’ve found A Daily Bible Conversation helpful, share it with your friends. Forward your daily email or send them a link to the website: www.bibleconversation.com.

INSIGHTS AND EXPLANATIONS

Psalm 117:1-2: Twenty-nine words. That’s all the psalmist needs to tell us much of what we need to know for life: All nations, all people gratefully recognize God as the source of life.  Know that his love and care will last longer than anything we can imagine, even our lives. “Praise the Lord.” Oh my, it took me thirty-two words.

THE WORD MADE FRESH

Allison isn’t the only one, however, who has trouble letting go of his anger. Here in the United States anger is becoming epidemic. Reports of revenge, road rage, and retribution are as common as dirt. Revenge is an entire Hollywood movie genre unto itself. Anger lives and thrives in our world globally and personally. Witness the centuries old rage of the Middle East or a modern-day tantrum in a traffic jam. The only difference in the anger is scale. There isn’t much you and I can do about anger on the global scale but there is on the personal.

When I was in seventh grade, I had a friend whose parents were both professional counselors. Among the many strange things that went on in that house, they always had stacks of boxes filled with empty wine bottles sitting by their back door. One night I finally mustered the courage to ask about them.

“Some of our clients struggle with pent-up anger,” John’s mother told me. “So we have a special room we take them to. And under heavy supervision, we allow them to release their anger by throwing these bottles against the wall.”

Sounded fun to me. Little did I know that John’s parents were practicing therapy based on the idea that anger must be released–vented–like steam in a pressure cooker. Unfortunately this popular, misguided, supposed cure for our anger epidemic is actually part of the problem.

Research shows anger cannot be stored because its source is our famous fight or flight response: a chemical/electrical response to real or perceived danger. Once activated, those chemicals eventually cease firing and anger, or whatever emotion we have tied to the chemical reaction, dissipates.

How is it, then, that many of us wake in the middle of the night and feel that rush of rage all over again even years later? Psychologist Dr. Archibald Hart says we have stored not anger but rather nurtured the hurt or fear or frustration that our bodies, in an endless loop, interpret as danger. Worse yet, anger becomes an ingrained pattern so that our fuses become shorter and shorter. Venting anger as pure powerful emotion actually fuels it. Thus Bryan Allison reigniteed a thirteen year old rage that lands him two stories down and in the hospital. Hockey may be hazardous; anger definitely is.

What’s the answer? Repression? Denial? No! Hart argues that a healthy release of anger flows through forgiveness. Not a mealy-mouthed forgiveness that excuses wrong, whining, “It’s okay, really.”

Rather Hart advocates a forgiveness forged by truth and reality that says, “Yes, you wronged me and I could do the same to you. But I choose not to. I choose not to hold this against you. I choose forgiveness and freedom.”

James, the brother of Jesus, said the same thing long ago: “be slow to become angry.” Later James quotes his brother Jesus saying, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Forgiveness is not protecting the offender. It is love, not anger in action. Forgiveness never erases consequences. It simply loves in the turbulent wake of the betrayal. Forgiveness also does not equal trust. Forgiveness is a gift; trust is earned one kept promise at a time. But most of all, as I wrote yesterday, forgiveness is not forgetting. Forgiveness shudders at the pain, weeps at the loss, but then stands tall. Forgiveness remembers and places grace on painful memories. Finally, forgiveness is reciprocal. Extending forgiveness to others frees them from your hate and revenge. But like a boomerang, it flies back granting you freedom from your hate and revenge as well. Forgiveness is freedom! Forgiveness is the remedy to anger not unrestrained expression.

From the cross Jesus said, “Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” With those words Jesus neither excuses nor forgets. With the pain of betrayal racking his body and soul, he chooses to love. We need not start with such a grand display as that. Instead when you are cut off in traffic today, choose to lay it aside–forgive (because they probably don’t know what they are doing!). Then when something more serious, a memory of a past wrong, scorches you, take the first step toward freedom from anger and pray, “Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing. But You do!”

1. How has anger possessed you?
2. Which passage spoke most to you?
3. What did the four have in common?

If you’re reading this blog on Facebook and you’d like to join the conversation, click here. www.bibleconversation.com.

Eugene co-pastors The Neighborhood Church in Littleton, CO and writes a blog eugenesgodsightings.blogspot.com