The World is Full of Weariness and Wonder

Light rain is singing on the shingles, dripping to the carpet of pine needles by my porch. Darkness has descended in earnest, as it has threatened to do during several waves of thunderheads today. Evening has come, but I am bathed in warm light—my porch transformed into a quaint café with the help of several strands of twinkle lights wrapped 'round the rafters. I am pleased with my handiwork this day. 

It has been a long weekend of learning to rest well. . . I didn't accomplish any of the handwritten letters I planned to pen, but I organised various things in my home, put up lights, went hiking with a friend, read, walked slowly through a garden at sunset, and sat on my porch simply watching the rain fall. There is something to be said for the hours I spent accomplishing things around the house, but there is more to be said for the quiet moments of holding a mug of tea and listening to the raindrop chorus. There is something magical about sitting under twinkle lights as grey clouds melt into black skies. There is a grand sense of awe staring up at a waterfall a hundred feet high, pounding with spring snow melt. There is wonder in turning to stare up at a seagull-coloured house set against dark pines—a house etched with stars and trees at the cornices, its windows echoing the pink evening clouds. 

There is weariness in this world—but it is contrasted with all the glowing wonder sprinkled in the crevices. That huge glimmering star on the Western horizon reminds me that sadness is not all there is. That sorrow doesn't swallow up every ounce of joy. The hurts, the losses, and the fears that parade through the lives of my friends and family—that stab my own heart—are not all. Beauty also pierces us through. Wonder freezes us in our tracks. Glory bows our hearts. Desire makes us ache. But the piercing, pause, praise, and pain are not mortal wounds—they are healing hurts. They make us whole. Our yearning reminds us that there is more, so much more, than our narrow field of vision.

A thumbnail moon glimmers through the pine boughs tonight, and I breathe my thanks for its glory. A keen air, fresh and faintly perfumed with spring, whispers in my ears as it passes. Too many times I forget to praise, so the mountains cry out the Maker's goodness and grandeur. Too many times I tuck my head down and get stuck inside my thoughts, not seeing the stars and trees and painted sunsets. Too many times my own wallowing blinds me to the pain of others—others to whom I could show the stars and the piercing Beauty that reminds us that the shadow is but a small and passing thing. 

May I see beauty in unexpected places and in the features of men's faces. May my words point back to the Creator, who is forever blessed. May His words ring out from me in thanksgiving, in asking for forgiveness, in kindness, in giving grace as I have been granted grace. . . Amen.

Come, Let us Judge

Can we get something straight? It is okay to judge. I know it is the unpardonable sin of our society, but it is not unpardonable before God. In fact, he calls Christians to judge.1

Before someone runs off decrying me as a heretic, let’s talk about what judging is. To judge means to esteem, to select or choose, to determine or resolve, to sift or weigh evidence, or to pronounce an opinion between right and wrong.2 In short, it means to assess. Not to be confused with asses: what people make of themselves when they draw no distinction between judging and condemning, trying to shut down reasoned assessment by crying, “Don’t judge me!”

Though the word “judge” may at times be translated to condemn, it is not the first or top use for the word—in either the lexicon or the dictionary. A person can be praised for having good judgment (discernment), but shouted down the next moment for judging (having an opinion). I have witnessed Christians bandy about the first four verses of Matthew 7, only to have them completely miss verse five:

Don’t [judge], and then you won’t be [judged]. For others will treat you as you treat them. And why worry about a speck in the eye of a brother when you have a board in your own? Should you say, ‘Friend, let me help you get that speck out of your eye,’ when you can’t even see because of the board in your own? Hypocrite! First get rid of the board. Then you can see to help your brother. “Don’t give holy things to depraved men. Don’t give pearls to swine! They will trample the pearls and turn and attack you. (Matt 7:1-6 TLB emphasis mine)

Let’s see what Matthew’s words look like, fleshed out in our mirrors, in our daily interactions with people. . . How we make assessments or criticise others is the same measure that will be applied to us. We don’t live up to our own critiques, let alone God’s, so it is important to first know and love God, and next to ask the Lord to help us to be holy as he is holy. Whereby, we are able to not only use God’s word to assess our fellow men, but to first use it to judge our own motives and actions. Though we also sin, it does not mean that if we see a fellow believer outside the boundaries of God’s word that we can ignore his sin. It is our calling to examine our own hearts before God and then to help set our brother straight again (James 5:19-20).

We are to be both bold and humble if we see our brother in sin. Bold in speaking the truth, humble in our motives—do we desire our friend’s good and growth, or do we just want to be right? Before we approach a fellow believer who is in sin, we need to first turn away from any sin in our own hearts and lives. Not long ago, when a friend of mine was angry, he said some very untrue and unkind things to and about me. Though I was praying before our conversation to clear things up, I began snipping at him and accusing him once we began talking. Right in the middle of our conversation, I heard my tone and I knew that whatever else the case may be, I was in the wrong. I prayed silently for the Lord to forgive my attitude, and that I would be humble enough to ask for forgiveness. 

When I next had the opportunity to speak, I took a deep breath and asked if we could start again, asking for forgiveness for my cutting words and haughty heart. The tenor of our conversation changed immediately from heated battle to comrades-in-arms, fighting together against the enemy who sows discord among brethren. Once I had removed the “board” in my own “eye” by confessing my sin to God and my friend, I was free to approach my brother to help him remove the speck in his eye. We are not free to call out sin in a haughty spirit, but instead, to speak the truth in love (Eph 4:15)—and love is not arrogant. We are not free to simply say nothing—He who knows the good he ought to do and does not do it, to him it is sin, says James (James 4:17).

Note that I say these things about making a judgment in regards to our fellow believers. Even though God holds us all to his standard, Christians are to judge differently between believers and non-Christians (I Cor 5: 9-10, 12-13). We are specifically called to judge (discern the words and actions of) our fellow Christians; not to throw away the holy gift of speaking wise judgments to evil men, as Matt 7:6 says above. We must speak the truth, of course, but we must let God hold unbelievers to his standard—that is his role, not ours. It is okay to call sin what it is: sin. It is okay to stand up for God’s character. And in the painful times when a brother continues persistently and unrepentantly in sin—even after exhortation and Godly confrontation—Paul tells us we must break fellowship with him (as in the case of unrepentant, gross sexual immorality in I Cor 5:11).

It is okay to judge—to sift a matter, to observe behaviour patterns, to see if actions and words align, to see if there is good fruit and assess the roots thereby. We can do this for all men. We cannot judge (in the condemnation or passing a sentence manner) the hearts of men, because only God knows the heart of a man. We are called to be discerning of what we observe. Let us, “Live life, then, with a due sense of responsibility, not as men who do not know the meaning and purpose of life but as those who do. Make the best use of your time, despite all the difficulties of these days. Don’t be vague but firmly grasp what you know to be the will of God” (Eph 5:15-17 PHILLIPS).

We must not be vague—we must make wise judgments based on what we know of the will and the character of God. We do not have to back away from speaking the truth simply because someone demands that we “do not judge” them. We must ask for the boldness, courage, love, and humility that we need to continue to judge rightly, to turn away from our own sin, and to help our brother to turn away from his, too. So, come, let us judge.

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1. See Matt 7:5, I Cor 5:3, 12

2. krino or judge as defined in the Strong's Concordance

Rising from Ruin

Tonight, ashes smear

Across my face

From priest’s thumb—

Sin’s dark drear

Mingled with  oil

Leaves a smudge

On my skin

and my soul

Last year’s palms

Burn deep upon

My flesh and

In my memory—

All I see

Is ashen, grey,

Charred remains of

Promises and dreams

I peer inside

At my soul

Crumbling to coals

Dead and lifeless—

Not a spark

Or an ember

Of élan appears

To be there

Am I hopeless

In this heap

Of fine flakes?

In brittle remains

Of others’ sins

And my own?

No, please God

Be my Hope.

From the dust

Sizzles a flame

Tracing the shape

Of burning wings—

From the ashes

Emerges a head

Beast—man—eyes—

Fiery Phoenix: arise!

Resurrecting from ruin

Flames a Phoenix—

Jesus, the Redeemer,

Myth become Fact,

The Holy One,

Burning up sin,

Breathing His life

Into dead places

Last year’s ashes

Smear across skin—

Dreams and promises

Broken by evil

Are not all

That there is;

The Phoenix rises,

Hope still lives!

Healing can come,

Lives be redeemed,

Faith be reforged,

Truth grant freedom—

The locust years

Can be uneaten

And all things

Be made well.

Only Human?

Imagine you are conversing with someone—a barista, the mailman, your mom, a close friend—and the conversation turns to an error that person made and they say, "Oh that mistake was a doozy! But I'm only human." They might even grin and shrug it away, chattering on as before. In fact, you may have made this very remark yourself at some point. If so, stop it. 

You and I are human beings. Our humanity is not an excuse—it is who and what we are. Not only human or merely human, but human in an of itself. As Aslan once explained, “You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve... And that is both honour enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor on earth. Be content.”¹

Be content—we were made in the image and likeness of God.² As such, we are distinct from every other creature in existence. We were made to be fully human—that is not a flaw, it is our rôle. We do not need to become less human, but more. All persons are shattered by the Fall, torn to bits and fragments of humanity. We are often more capable of being inhumane (sub-human, if you like) than we are of being human. Restoration of humanity means being completely human.

Someone might  inquire, doesn't the Bible say that we should decrease and God should increase in us?³ How does that point to us needing to be more human not less? Perhaps that is a misinterpretation of John the Baptist's statement, yet it raises a worthy point. If we are made in God's likeness, then we should be like God. Where do we take cues on how to be more like God? In the person of Jesus Christ. Jesus was the fullness of God in human flesh, but He was also the fullness of humanity in that sun-scorched skin.

Colossians two says it this way: "For in Him [Christ] dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and you are complete in Him..."⁴ I swim in waters far over my head when I begin thinking of "the fullness of the Godhead", but there that fullness is, in the person of Jesus. Further, we are completed in Him, made full in Him. We do not contain the fullness of the Godhead, we are too finite for that—but we can become completely human in Christ. I leave you to wrestle with the Scriptures in how to become more like Christ. I tremble before the Spirit of God as He sets my fractured soul in a myriad of places. Being made whole hurts, but it is good. Let us be content in nothing short of being human.



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1. Lewis, C. S., Prince Caspian

2. Genesis 1:26 (NKJV)
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Gen+1%3A26&version=NKJV

3. John 3:30 (NKJV)
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+3%3A30&version=NKJV

4. Colossians 2:9-10a (NKJV)
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=col+2%3A9-10&version=NKJV