… but the realtor keeps the commission.
A quick update on yesterday’s post and prayer request: within 24 hours of listing the house we received an offer—and it was for more than our asking price. I’ll let you know how this turns out.
God is good. Very good.
We placed our house on the market last night. Our realtor is our lovely daughter Karen, and you can see the listing here.
It has been quite an effort to get our house ready to be listed, and we have had remarkable help from many, including my parents (who have driven up from the coast several times to pitch in), Karen and Daniel, Jana Greer (Karen’s mother-in-law), our brothers and sisters in our congregation, and a professional painter who visited our church and heard that some missionaries needed help.
Kristian and Ethan made a sacrifice as well, not only helping to clearn up, but taking care of much of their own schooling (quite responsibly, I might add) so that Paula could focus on stripping wall paper, floating walls, painting, and so on. Paula added thousands to the value of the house by her amazing efforts.
Now perhaps you might ask God to bring us a buyer soon, so that we might continue our move toward Trnava….
Jesus was (and is) the Master of meeting people at their point of need. No unconsolable secret is hidden from him—consider the woman at the well in John 4. He unmasks idolatries we didn’t even know we had—consider the rich young ruler in Mark 10. And I want to be like him.
That is, I want to learn how to get to the bottom of what people are really concerned about, what they really love, what are their ultimate questions, who or what they secretly worship—in order to introduce Jesus and his good news to them at just that point. I don’t think this is easy. I’m not sure I even know those deep secrets about myself.
But I ran across the paragraph below in The Open Secret: An Introduction to the Theology of Mission, by Lesslie Newbegin, and it points to something that underlies many assumptions that people in the world share. And it has invited me to think about how the kingdom of Jesus answers or challenges these expectations. I’d be interested to hear your ideas about it, if you’d like to make a comment.
One almost universal feature of the world scene … seems unlikely to change in the near future. It is what has been described as the revolution of rising expectations. People in every part of the world are agreed in making demands upon society which in former ages were made by only a small segment in each nation. The French and American revolutions opened a radically new chapter in human history by establishing governments committed to the restructuring of human life on the principles developing during the Enlightenment. These principles were embodied in a popular and explosive form in Thomas Paine’s “The Rights of Man.” They were experienced in revolutionary movements through the nineteenth century and achieved apocalyptic expression in the Marxist vision of a new world to emerge from Armageddon—a world in which every man’s need would be met by the willing contribution of each according to his ability. The driving force of this vision extends far beyond its Marxist expression. It is embodied in the “Four Freedoms” of F. D. Roosevelt and in the promises which any political party must now make if it is to have a hope of power. It is indeed true that there are still millions of men and women patiently tilling the fields of Asia as their ancestors did, with no expectation that life will ever be other than it always has been—a life of almost ceaseless labor, or recurrent hunger, and of very drastically limited freedom. But the movement is inexorably toward the rejection of this agelong bondage. Everywhere people demand and governments promise “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and everywhere people grow impatient and rebellious when the promise is not fulfilled; if there is one generalization about the human condition today that is almost universally valid, it is surely this. The inner relationship between this expectation of a new world and the Christian gospel of the reign of God is one of the issues that must be discussed in any contemporary theology of mission. [The Open Secret, pages 6-7]
My friend Randy, with uncharacteristic passion, directed me to this remarkable experiment. The title of the story is “Pearls Before Breakfast”—but it might better be called “Pearls Before Swine.” For the experiment, Joshua Bell, an extraordinary violinist, showed up in Washington, DC, at L’Enfant Plaza to play on his 300-year-old Stadivarius some of the most beautiful music ever written. The question was, would the busy bureaucrats stop and listen? Make sure you watch the videos within the article.
My question for you is, Would you stop for beauty?
In the previous “Ex libris” post, I wrote about the books that have most influenced me. In every case I had read them many times, and I can see dramatic ways in which each has shaped by life. But there are many other books that have moved me deeply and leave me soaring (as much as a Dane can soar, anyway). I mention some of them here in case you have not read them, to encourage you to read them now.
Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. Reading it was a spiritual experience. Jean Valjean is a glorious hero, a redeemer. The Thernardiers are evil incarnate. Inspector Javert is the Law, and a man so bound by the Law that his inability to accept Grace destroys him. I was introduced to this book because my parents bought us tickets to the musical, so we wanted to read the story first. BTW, the musical is faithful to the book and powerful; the movies are all distortions.
In this season of giving away hundreds of books from my library, it seems fitting to pay tribute to those that have been my best friends along the way, the elite few that have played the greatest part in shaping who I am. There are, indeed, many others I could list—but these are remarkable and unforgettable. And it is always good to remember and thank those who introduce you to such faithful friends.
The Screwtape Letters, by C. S. Lewis. This was the first Christian book I read. Bob Streetman, our high-school Sunday school teacher at the First Baptist Church of Los Alamos, introduced me to it. Through it I came to know Lewis’s writings and life, which continue to be the most influential in my life.
Till We Have Faces, by C. S. Lewis. I weep every time I finish this book. I weep for my lack of love, I weep for the grace of God, I weep because it’s over. This book unmasks false love and embodies true love like no other.
The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint Exupéry. Ted Bailey, our academic advisor, professor, and friend at Oklahoma State University, introduced me to this magical story. It is, more than any book I have read, at the same time simple and profound. Perhaps it isn’t a coincidence that, in the end, this book is about love too.
The Writing Life, by Annie Dillard. My fantasy for decades was to be a writer. (I have almost given it up by now – though now and then I remind myself how old Tolstoy was when he wrote War and Peace.) This book feeds that fantasy by expressing just those things that make me want to write, and at the same time it models a style and a voice that I envy and aspire to. I believe my dear friend George Reiswig introduced me to Annie Dillard, through her masterpiece Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.
The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, by John Frame. Frame’s multi-perspectivalism appeals to me and seems to reflect the depth of the reality of God and his creation as well as we finite creatures can hope to. It influences the way I think about theology, philosophy of ministry, and life. And I deeply appreciate the spirit in which Frame writes—he is full of respect. My hero Richard Pratt introduced me to Frame’s work.
He Gave Us Stories, by Richard Pratt. I had the privilege of being one of Richard’s little helpers on this project—I drafted many of the footnotes, especially in the early chapters. In this book and in his courses at seminary Richard opened my eyes to the scriptures, and taught me skills of interpretation that are invaluable.
What books have most influenced you?
And you reply: “SkutoÄne vstal!”
This is the Slovak version of the traditional Easter greeting:
“Christ is risen!”
“He is risen indeed!”
Perhaps my favorite symbol of our faith is the Agnus Dei—the Lamb of God, depicted carrying his cross, and sometimes wearing a crown. The image to the right is from a window designed by Tim McClure, and you can click on the image to see his web page.
Denis Haack of Ransom Fellowship will be at the Alamo Draft House on Saturday, April 14, to deliver a “Growth in Grace” conference on the topic of “Engaging Film as a Christian: How Movies Help Us Be Human.” I’ve appreciated his writings and those of others published at the RF web page on the topic of cultural engagement. I would go if I were here.
If interested, contact the office of All Saints Presbyterian Church (see the link on the conference information page above).
Click on the picture to see a larger version of Caravaggio’s “The Calling of St. Matthew,” and take a minute with me to study it and reflect on the idea of a call from Christ. Caravaggio has captured on the canvas some interesting insights.
Christ is to the right in the painting, in the shadows (perhaps suggesting the call is not always crystal clear, not always easy to discern?), with his arm extended to the left (but it isn’t decisively pointing at Matthew, is it?). Peter is next to Jesus, with his back to us – and note how he is dressed: a bit shabby, with no shoes (is this what it will become of those who follow?). Matthew is at the table, with his partners in tax collecting, with his left hand raised to his chest in the “who, me?” position. His right hand is on the table, suggestively resting on a coin (it isn’t always easy to leave the good life, especially when you might end up like Peter over there).
What else do you see?