On a recent visit to the small NE Indian state of Tripura I was reminded of the harshness of political boundaries. There was a time when Tripura extended in all directions as compared to its present demarcations. The result? Tripurees are stranded in other states and countries and separated from other tribesmen.
Of course, they are just one of many people groups which have suffered from imposed political boundaries. The population of the state of Mizoram is estimated at one million but of course there are Mizos not included within the prescribed this state’s boundaries. I suppose this unfortunate reality is true of almost every political boundary in the world. Every group wanting its own designated territory … and reaping the consequences.
The result? Homesickness, unsettledness, strive, even riots and killings.
The theologian in me immediately laments the same dysfunctionality among church groups. Each wants its own real estate (preferably more spectacular than that of the one next door), its own distinctives, its own membership, and, often, its own protected territory. Attractive signboards display who is included and who is not.
I have often dreamed of a magic wand with which I could pass through our cities and erase all the distinctive/exclusive signs and all that they represent … and maybe, just maybe, some of the hurt which they have imposed.
The apostle Paul must have had a similar desire for the splintered Corinthian church of the first century. “One of you says, ‘I follow Paul’; another, ‘I follow Apollos’; another, ‘I follow Cephas’; still another, ‘I follow Christ.’ Is Christi divided?” (1 Corinthians 1:12). Note: just because they used “Christ” as part of their designation did not exonerate them!
Paul’s ultimate solution: “I will show you the most excellent way.” (1 Corinthians 12:31b). And, then comes that great dissertation on the effectiveness of genuine LOVE, which (according to Colossians 3:14) ‘binds everything together in perfect unity.”
Maybe, as we step into 2007, the love of God will be more evidenced in Jesus’ followers than ever before. I pray so.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Communication Challenges
Those of us who aspire to be communicators of the 2,000-year old (and older) biblical message face some (perhaps) insurmountable challenges. Biblical everyday pictures and not-so-everyday symbols do not translate smoothly into contemporary cultures. Ships, sheaves, soldiers, seraphim, shepherds, sheep ….
As a boy I remember chanting “Onward Christian Solders,” but growing up in southeastern Saskatchewan didn’t give me much of an idea of what a soldier looked like or did. War was only for the movies (which were out-of-bounds for us)! However, after spending many years on the other side of the globe, I have become all too familiar with both soldiers and war!
Last week, I visited the delightful, tiny Indian state of Tripura. Its history outstrips its current status just like first century meanings must exceed today’s casual usages. The State of Tripura has a long history. The Kingdom of Tripura in its peak included the whole eastern region of Bengal (Bangladesh) from the Brahmaputra river in the north and west, the Bay of Bengal in the south and Burma to the east during the 14th and 15th centuries AD. The last King of Tripura was Maharaja Bir Bikram Kishore Manikya Bahadur who reigned from Agartala died (at the age of 39) in 1947 and after whom the Kingdom of Tripura was merged with India in 1949.
As I observing the extravagance and contemplated the self-centeredness of this king, I pondered the difficulty of considering Jesus as King. What do Jesus’ kingdom parables mean to those who understand “king” in terms of this egotistic despot? His extravagant Neermahal (one of several retreat castles), 50 kilometers south of his main castle in Agartala, lies in deserted ruins. It is less than 100 years old! It reminded me of standing in front of Shajahan’s Tajmahal and trying to comprehend how one person could conclude that he deserved that much of human and natural resources.
No wonder that Jesus insisted while on trial before the Roman Governor, “My kingdom is not of this world.” But, what do we mean when we sing songs like “King Jesus,” “come and reign over us”? And, even if we think we know, how do we clearly communicate kingdom-ness?
As a boy I remember chanting “Onward Christian Solders,” but growing up in southeastern Saskatchewan didn’t give me much of an idea of what a soldier looked like or did. War was only for the movies (which were out-of-bounds for us)! However, after spending many years on the other side of the globe, I have become all too familiar with both soldiers and war!
Last week, I visited the delightful, tiny Indian state of Tripura. Its history outstrips its current status just like first century meanings must exceed today’s casual usages. The State of Tripura has a long history. The Kingdom of Tripura in its peak included the whole eastern region of Bengal (Bangladesh) from the Brahmaputra river in the north and west, the Bay of Bengal in the south and Burma to the east during the 14th and 15th centuries AD. The last King of Tripura was Maharaja Bir Bikram Kishore Manikya Bahadur who reigned from Agartala died (at the age of 39) in 1947 and after whom the Kingdom of Tripura was merged with India in 1949.
As I observing the extravagance and contemplated the self-centeredness of this king, I pondered the difficulty of considering Jesus as King. What do Jesus’ kingdom parables mean to those who understand “king” in terms of this egotistic despot? His extravagant Neermahal (one of several retreat castles), 50 kilometers south of his main castle in Agartala, lies in deserted ruins. It is less than 100 years old! It reminded me of standing in front of Shajahan’s Tajmahal and trying to comprehend how one person could conclude that he deserved that much of human and natural resources.
No wonder that Jesus insisted while on trial before the Roman Governor, “My kingdom is not of this world.” But, what do we mean when we sing songs like “King Jesus,” “come and reign over us”? And, even if we think we know, how do we clearly communicate kingdom-ness?
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
The Precariousness o
The Precariousness of Pretension
Have things changed, or is my memory (just a little) exaggerative? Stored in the annuals of my memories are recollections of Saskatchewan snow banks as high as the house and temperatures that dipped to that brittlizing minus 50! Not that we need or want them, but how is it that we don’t have those kinds of Sask winters any more?
Another childhood memory that I don’t care to have repeated is that of major chest colds, bronchitis and the like with no anti-biotics to even give hope of relief. Instead, Mom had those flaming mustard plasters that inhibited any hair growing on a boy’s chest!
Last week, we viewed the video of the life of Fanny Crosby, writer of more Christian songs than any one else—ever (I suppose). What spiritual insight for one who lived almost all of her life blind.
And it was mustard plaster that did it! A quack doctor who pretended to know what to do with a little girl’s eye infection—blinded for life!
So, I got thinking about the dangers of pretentiousness, especially among professionals: doctors, teachers, consultants, nurses, counselors, ministers, parents, grandparents, to name only a few. When one’s word carries so much weight that a lifetime can be marred (or benefited). When an eternal destination might be determined by a sentence, a word, a tone—or absence thereof! Holding another’s destiny in ones hand is no small responsibility.
Perhaps this is at the heart of the biblical admonition: “Let not many of you presume to be teachers… because … we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). It is no accident, I am sure, that that verse comes in the context of a discussion concerning the importance of controlling ones tongue.
How presumptuous of me to pose as a “teacher.” But I did and I do! Scary!
Have things changed, or is my memory (just a little) exaggerative? Stored in the annuals of my memories are recollections of Saskatchewan snow banks as high as the house and temperatures that dipped to that brittlizing minus 50! Not that we need or want them, but how is it that we don’t have those kinds of Sask winters any more?
Another childhood memory that I don’t care to have repeated is that of major chest colds, bronchitis and the like with no anti-biotics to even give hope of relief. Instead, Mom had those flaming mustard plasters that inhibited any hair growing on a boy’s chest!
Last week, we viewed the video of the life of Fanny Crosby, writer of more Christian songs than any one else—ever (I suppose). What spiritual insight for one who lived almost all of her life blind.
And it was mustard plaster that did it! A quack doctor who pretended to know what to do with a little girl’s eye infection—blinded for life!
So, I got thinking about the dangers of pretentiousness, especially among professionals: doctors, teachers, consultants, nurses, counselors, ministers, parents, grandparents, to name only a few. When one’s word carries so much weight that a lifetime can be marred (or benefited). When an eternal destination might be determined by a sentence, a word, a tone—or absence thereof! Holding another’s destiny in ones hand is no small responsibility.
Perhaps this is at the heart of the biblical admonition: “Let not many of you presume to be teachers… because … we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). It is no accident, I am sure, that that verse comes in the context of a discussion concerning the importance of controlling ones tongue.
How presumptuous of me to pose as a “teacher.” But I did and I do! Scary!
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