Fallen and Flawed

Good heavens…I had something I wanted to say, but then I clicked on the Jason Westerfield post link and…after reading through two-thirds of the comments on that one, I found my train of thought had not just been derailed, but the engine had sublimated in a flaming nuclear fireball that seems to have leveled my entire brain. That’s not rain falling outside your window, Demian…if you could kindly scrape up the larger bits of my scattered cortex and ship them back in a zip-lock bag, I would greatly appreciate it. I’m off to brew some strong coffee, and try to sort out the Brobdingnagian bizarreness my hapless eyes just choked down…

Oh–and you are supernatural in your patience on that post, by the way. And a better blogger than I ever was! I would have shut the circus down after the comment with ALL CAPS AND NO PUNCTUATIONS.

Denita, scraping as we speak… [by the way, it is an utter and complete joy to get comments from you. Definitely deserve the reward for best special effects. If not also best plot.]

^Agreed^ I made the mistake of trying to read all of the comments.

Great post though.

Seriously, when I read that passage it is always the angels that scream how holy he is. Not by what they say, but what the do with those six wings. They use one pair cover their eyes so they won’t be burned up by his glory and holiness. I cannot begin to wrap my finite mind around a God so holy and glorious, yet loving enough to want to save his enemies. I mean…who does that? Only God. This passage definitely convicts me, but knowing verse seven sets me humbly before his throne because my sin (our sin) was atoned for at the cross. God forgive my insensitivity to his holiness.

I forever struggle with being too comfortable, seeing God as all loving, convenient, and not fearing Him enough. Thanks for your reminder..

Honestly, I don’t want Isaiah’s commission:

“Go and tell this people:
” ‘Be ever hearing, but never understanding;
be ever seeing, but never perceiving.’

I want people to accept my message! lol. Isaiah had a difficult task. But, God’s in charge, not me.

By the way, I checked out the Jason Westerfield post also. Wow! What a conversation that spurred! I learned something new from you. When someone mentions something I don’t know quite how to respond, I will simply say, “Thanks for the thoughtful comments.” lol.

And yes, Denita has fabulous comments. I wished I got comments like that!

Demian, you mentioned the New Testament showing God’s holiness – He isn’t just a cuddly friend. That reminds me of Ananias And Sapphira in Acts 5. So much for God only displaying wrath in the OT.

The holiness of God makes Romans 8:1 all the more precious.

And Denita’s comment has to be the best I’ve ever read.

Denita, +5 for using sublimated in a sentence today. You deserve points for Brobdingnagian as well but since I had to look up the meaning I don’t know how many you should get.

And to answer Demian, convicted. Because I want to see, hear, and feel but don’t want to have to respond like Isaiah. Dangit.

Oh gosh! *blush* Thanks, y’all!

I’ve been turning this over in my head during the Christmas holidays…perhaps because the holidays cast an unflattering light on the circus we have made of our Savior’s birth. It’s one of my biggest peeves with the American church, in fact. In our pathological fear of anything unpleasant, we have pulled he teeth and claws out of the Lion of Judah. We’ve mopped up the blood on the fleece of the Perfect Lamb. We’ve recast the mighty and powerful Cherubim into floating fat babies and the Seraphim are reduced to a heavenly chorus line. In fact, we’ve denatured the entire glorious angelic host into winged harp-strumming girls. And as if that crime wasn’t already hideous enough, we turned the Supreme Creator of the Universe into a harried old man with no power of His own to spare and needing our help. Our Jesus would rather set up a friendly ecumenical dialog with the Pharisees, hand out helpful tracts to the moneylenders in the Temple, and pat Judas affectionately on his traitorous head.

It is this avoidance of the unpleasant that has given rise to Joel Olsteens and Joyce Meyerses who tickle our ears with toothless half-Gospels, devoid of blood and pain and dying. Oprah Winfreys bolster our fragile egos with reassurance that our sins are just inconveniences to the Most Holy, not objects of His supreme wrath. Our worship songs praise God as our friend and buddy, not a Father to be revered and treated with a holy fear.

We don’t like to teach our children of a God whose anger boils against us, with only the supreme sacrifice of His Son staying His almighty hand from wiping us utterly from the face of His Earth. We decorate their bedrooms with Precious Moments images of a happy Noah and his happy little boat, filled with happy little animals amidst happy little waves…avoiding the thought of the carcasses that drowned beneath that terrible water. The Christmas crèche holds a clean and peaceful crowd of Caucasian figures kneeling in adoration of a plump baby on a heap of crisp straw, not an utterly exhausted poverty-stricken couple in tattered rags, wiping the birth chrism from their newborn Savior amidst the filth and excrement of herd animals. The Easter celebration bedecks a clean and bloodless Cross in lilies, with fluffy bunnies and chicks nestled in its shadow and colored eggs piled at its base, not a splintered heap of timber crusted with drying blood and scraps of flesh, with mocking soldiers and Jewish leaders spitting on Him as He breathed His last breath…

We are a nation of sheep who have listened to wolves with soft and pleasing voices. The oven is warming, and we bask in its glow and convince ourselves that God approves of us…while we pinch our nose to the smell of our burning fleece.

How about in Luke:

But when Simon Peter saw that, he fell down at Jesus’ feet, saying, “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

For amazement had seized him and all his companions because of the catch of fish which they had taken;

His fishing buddies were probably saying, dude – get up, you’re embarrassing yourself. They’re just fish.