How Are You? Really?

Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet each other in Christian love.

1 Corinthians 13:11,12

At home, our early morning salutations are a pretty cursory affair as, after corporate morning prayers, everyone grunts a greeting and dashes off to whatever activity begins their day. But not when Grandma is visiting. Then greetings become a special event.

 

After prayers, we all sit down and wait in expectation because we know Mama is about to greet us. Slowly and deliberately, indeed she will not be rushed, she turns to Dad and looks him straight in the eye. "Orkurga," she says, using his birth name, "Good morning, did you sleep well?" This is no routine question, as you can feel from her tone and attitude that she means precisely what she says.  "Did you sleep well?" requires an honest answer.

 

One by one she greets us, going in a circle. I can't wait for my turn. "Doosuur." She addresses me.

 

"Eh, Mama", I answer, all the while knowing what will come next.

 

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" What a wonderful question. And I know that she would really like to know.

 

What a contrast this draws with the perfunctory salutations we offer each other every day. Offerings like "Good day" and "How are you?" have become mundane and hardly ever mean more than the barest of acknowledgements. But then, if we would take a minute to slow down, look someone in the eye and ask him, honestly, "How are you? Really?", we might be surprised at what the answer might be. Because often we will discover that beneath the veneer of a smiling face and a ready answer, lies a human being, all too familiar with the hurts, worries and concerns that make everyday living what it is.

 

A question as simple and commonplace as "How are you?" can become a veritable tool for breaking down barriers and getting into someone's world to offer comfort, healing and wisdom. And, beyond this, in that singular moment where all your attention is fixed on that one person, he feels special, very special indeed.

 

Hello there. Yes, I'm talking to you. How are you? Really?

 

With love, Doosuur.

 

 

Martha, Dear Martha

It's the same with you. When you've done everything expected of you, be matter-of-fact and say, "The work is done. What we were told to do, we did."

Luke 17:10

Martha, oh dear Martha. I've always had some empathy for the elder of the Bethany sisters and I have never for the life of me understood why Jesus was so curt with her. He had been walking all day, under the hot Middle Eastern sun when he came to her doorstep, and like any good Hebrew lady, she immediately set to preparing him a hearty meal.

 

There she was, kneading the dough, stoking the hearth, stirring the stew, all by herself, while her wide-eyed, vivacious sibling sat at Jesus' feet, listening to stories rather than letting the good man have some rest. Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow, she tossed a towel over her shoulder and marched into the living room. Arms akimbo, she demanded, "Master, don't you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me?"

 

Good question. But wait for it; Jesus is not impressed. "Martha, dear Martha, you're fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it - it's the main course, and won't be taken from her." (Luke 10)

 

A friend recently shared with me the words of Luke 17, and they struck a chord - I can do God no favors. Jesus, speaking here, says it quite succinctly:

 

Suppose one of you has a servant who comes in from plowing the field or tending the sheep. Would you take his coat, set the table, and say, "Sit down and eat"? Wouldn't you be more likely to say, "Prepare dinner; change your clothes and wait table for me until I've finished my coffee; then go to the kitchen and have your supper"? Does the servant get special thanks for doing what's expected of him? It's the same with you. When you've done everything expected of you, be matter-of-fact and say, "The work is done. What we were told to do, we did." (vv. 7-10, Message)

 

Martha was working hard, doing her best to serve God. But God was not impressed. He's already done so much more to serve me that my highest service pales in comparison. All he requires of me is to do exactly what he tells me to do. And if that means sitting still at his feet, well, that's were I ought to be.

 

So take pause, stop being oh-so-busy for a minute and consider: "No matter what I do, I can do God no favors. All that will ever impress Him is that I'm in that position of submission, attentive to His Word and His Will." Stop fussing and sit down for a minute and be blessed as you do.

 

With love, Doosuur.

The Darling of Heaven, Crucified

Worthy is the Lamb
Seated on Your throne
Crown You now with many crowns
You reign victorious
High and lifted up
Jesus Son of God
The Darling of heaven crucified
Worthy is the Lamb
Darlene Zschech, 2000

There are a few songs that are, truly, in a league of their own for the simple reason that they have moved me to tears. Songs like Lenny LeBlanc's Above All, Mark Schultz' Letters From War and, most recently, Darlene Zschech's Worthy is the Lamb.

I happened to be listening to music casually some weeks ago when a line jumped up at me out of the tunes: "the Darling of Heaven crucified." What horror! Jesus was crucified. He was actually, even brutally, nailed to a cross and left to hang for 3 hours while the whole world walked on by. And there, alone, far removed from the glory of heaven - where he had legions of magnificent angels at his beck and call, where he had his Father's ear, where he was undisputed prince - there, on the cross, he died in pain and despair. From glory to grave, from Heaven to Hades.

At the height of his suffering Jesus he called out, "My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me?" Dead silence. Not even his Father would answer him now. There, at that moment, he had become sin. He was sin embodied that sin might die. It was as though God had cut off his own right hand and thrown it in the fire. The Darling of Heaven was crucified. Heaven's best Son was abandoned to death.

And most fittingly, all earth fell silent and the sun refused to shine. Creation rebelled for her Master was defiled. And with a word and a cry he breathed his last.

And there, right there in the darkness, in the silence - with the women weeping in muffled tones while the soldiers mocked - there does history find its finest moment. Christ crucified so that I could escape death.

Do we so much mourn Christ's death as we celebrate it? Perhaps not quite so much, and with good reason too - for if the full weight of the injustice of that moment should descend on us, and if we realized that we too held the hammer that spring afternoon, we might be driven to depths of despair. But thanks be to God, all that is done and the bitterness of death is past. So go ahead, mourn and then celebrate Christ's death. The Darling of Heaven crucified, so that I could become Heaven's darling.

With love, Doosuur.