weary one

            Leah— she must have been a strong woman, a stubborn woman, a determined woman.  Maybe more than Rachel, she was Jacob’s match— clever, devious, quick.  She deceived the deceiver.  Perhaps that is why he didn’t love her; he saw, in her, a mirror of himself . . . and he was repulsed.
            And yet she, more than Rachel, was the mother of the nation of Israel.  She bore, from her own body, six sons and at least one daughter.  Rachel gave Jacob two sons— considering the sons of her maid, four— but Leah’s maid as well bore two sons, which means that Leah still gave Jacob far more children than Rachel did.
            It was Leah’s son who stepped up to replace her disgraced eldest son.  It was Leah’s son who became a man, going against the grain of his family and his culture.  It was Leah’s son who convinced Jacob to allow them to return to Egypt to buy grain to save the family.  It was Leah’s son who stood up to the most powerful man in Egypt in order to save a brother who had made his life miserable— doing this for the sake of his father, not himself.  It was Leah’s son who became the king-tribe.  It was Leah’s son whose line was promised to bring Messiah— the ultimate anointed one.
            Leah began badly.  Maybe she finished her life badly, too.  But no matter what she as a person did . . . she was the mother of Judah . . . the mother of David . . . the mother of Messiah . . . and she was used and chosen by God Himself.
            Maybe that is the beauty of Leah’s story, that God does not always choose the righteous ones, the ones who have everything right.  Maybe, through Leah’s story, God shows us that He chooses dysfunctional, unlovely, hated people; that He moves in strange ways; and that, He redeems our brokenness and mistakes . . . grave though they may be . . .

twue wuv

Valentine's Day.  Singles Awareness Day.  Forced Affection Day.

I've heard the legends. I've laughed at the angry rhetoric hurled at Hallmark.  I've observed the anxiety of young couples.  I've witnessed the sweet simple affection shown by devoted, experienced couples.  I've watched singles enter a spiral of despair, depression, self-pity and "righteous anger" at a day that doesn't fit them.

People, we have holidays to celebrate mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, presidents, veterans, and administrative assistants.  I don't see people freaking out when they don't fit into one of those groups.  But I do sympathize.  It's hard feeling alone when it seems that everyone else has someone special to love.  (And I do know-- try living four years totally single at Bible college.) 

But Valentine's Day was not originally a celebration of love and romance.  Does anyone even know what St. Valentine did?

(And if you said he performed marriages against the emperor's will, you're only possibly half right.)

Firstly, no one is exactly sure which Valentine the day is named for.  There were three of them who were martyred before the Pope announced February 14 as "St. Valentine's Day."  Just like Christmas, Valentine's Day was originally a replacement of a pagan celebration-- the Feast of Lupercalia, which was a day when boys and girls were, for once in the year, allowed to spend time together.  (But that's another story-- follow the link and read up on it if you want.)  In any event, even the Pope seemed unsure of what exactly the Saints Valentine had done to deserve their own day.  He simply wrote that it was to be a day to celebrate those "... whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose acts are known only to God."  However, there was a rather legendary account about what the death of one of the Valentines.  The medieval book Legenda Aurea recounts Valentine's story something like this.

. . . St Valentine was persecuted as a Christian and interrogated by Roman Emperor Claudius II in person. Claudius was impressed by Valentine and had a discussion with him, attempting to get him to convert to Roman paganism in order to save his life. Valentine refused and tried to convert Claudius to Christianity instead. Because of this, he was executed. Before his execution, he is reported to have performed a miracle by healing the blind daughter of his jailer. (See this link for more information.)
It wasn't until much later that the legend about the secret marriage ceremonies arose.

Faith.  Courage in the face of death.  Love.  Concern for others' eternal destinies.  Forgiveness.  Sacrifice.
That was the legacy of the first Valentine.  Will it be ours?

Today, instead of being miserable because I'm single, I will celebrate Valentine's Day by sharing my faith with my governors.  (I'd encourage you to do so as well.  It's fairly simple to find e-mail addresses for our president, vice president, representatives, etc.)  I will celebrate by sacrificing my time and energy to show the love of God to the people around me.  I will forgive those I'm angry with.  I will show love.

And if, after all that, you still find yourself wanting nothing to do with Valentine's Day, celebrate the Chinese New Year instead.  It begins today-- The Year of the Yang Metal White Tiger.

Promised Land

I live in the land promised to my fathers, but I have not seen the promises fulfilled.

            Lifting my eyes, I lunge off the dusty road to dodge the galloping horses.  As I stand in the field, the sunlight flashes off the armor and swords of the soldiers.  One, two, three of them— they rush by and they are gone.  But they are not gone quickly enough for me to miss the wild dark terrified eyes of the man tied behind one of the soldiers.  Swallowing the bile that rises in my throat, I clamber onto the road and trudge on.
            I have been a slave in my own land since I was born.

Instead of joy, I know fear.

            I have heard the stories from my father, who learned them from his father, who learned them from his father, and so on— stories of our land before it was taken captive, and our people imprisioned with it.  The land was a good land, they say, a land so fertile and rich it spilt milk and honey.  No man knew what it was to starve; no child wandered the streets crying for bread.
            Things were not like they are now.

Instead of fruitfulness, I know desperate need.

            I squint out over my land, shielding my eyes from the blazing midday sun, breathless against the hot wind sweeping against my body.  This land is mine, yes, but it is not mine.  I have never known the luxury of having enough to provide over and above what my family needs.  I have never known the joy of willingly giving what I know the LORD required of me.  Taxes weigh heavily on us; we scrape out a living, praying that we will have bread each day for our children to eat.
            I know we brought this punishment upon ourselves.

Instead of blessing, I know cursing.

            I have read from the prophets, understood the words they spoke against our stubborn hearts and our prideful actions.  Our fathers sinned against the LORD, and we have followed in their footsteps.  Gladly they went to the temples of the land gods, those demons they thought would restore the fertility and joy of their home.  Willingly now we turn to the power of our own hands, our swords and scythes and bows.  As our fathers, we have neglected repentance.  We prefer to find our own way of salvation.

Instead of peace, I know strife.

            Suddenly, I glimpse my little child running toward me.  She laughs as she reaches me, and I sweep her up into my arms, tousling her curls.  I hold her close against my heart and shut my eyes.  Perhaps, though I myself have only known captivity and oppression, things will be different for my daughter.  Perhaps, though the LORD has punished us, He will yet be merciful and rescue us, as He has promised.

Our land is not a home; it is a prison, a wilderness.
Will You return, O LORD?
Deliver us!