Gershom's Gleanings

Well, most of you have heard by now that I accepted a job offer teaching English in Korea for a year. For those who haven't (if any of you even read this blog, which I doubt) sorry to drop the bombshell on you through here. The countdown to departure is about t-minus 21 days and counting. For the next three weeks I'll be finishing up at Subway, filing paperwork, trying to gain a slight hold on basic Korean, and bidding adieu to friends, family, and acquaintances. If you're interested, you can follow my odyssey via this blog. I'll try to update at least once every couple of weeks. I'm sure there will be no shortage of fascinating tidbits, stories, and insights into both myself and the culture that I'm adapting myself to. You may have noticed that I've changed the blog name to reflect my new life. I chose this because 1) It's a corny name and that's just how I roll (haha) and 2) I think it is an apt description of what I'm going to feel like for the duration of my time in Korea. I'm hoping I'll be able to learn a great deal about the incarnation of Christ and how He fit Himself into our culture but without compromising His mission or His message. Anyway, that's the state of things now! Pray for me if you get a chance!

All-Consuming Fire

I once had a list of goals and landmarks I planned to reach in my life. Among them were publishing anthologies of poetry, going skydiving, owning a home and a car, getting married, and running a marathon. I've dumped all that. I have only one enduring goal. And that is to fall more in love with my savior. The one who laid his life down and poured himself out until death and held nothing back. The only enduring legacy I would really want to leave is that I loved him to the end. Real love too. Not just the words. And if that means dying out without having accomplished anything in this world's eyes then so be it. I don't care. I wasn't made for publishing anthologies of poetry, going skydiving, or running in marathons. I was made for a singular purpose. And that is to love and adore the Lord Jesus Christ and to worship him alone. Hang all the rest of it, if need be. I want nothing else.

Death

Death. No Christian can experience the joy of Christ apart from it. It is why Christ came to earth and it is why God has put us here too. "For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it" (Mark 8:35). Of course I'm not talking about physical death, but spiritual death-- synonymous with an acceptance of suffering and being abused by people and with the possibility of martyrdom. This death is not negotiable. "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die," said Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German martyr. We cannot make conditions on our death ('Okay, God, I'll die if... you promise I won't have to suffer too much, you promise that I'll always feel your presence with me, you'll let me always have good food to eat or good health or a spouse who will remain faithful to me.) We. Must. Die. God will not be bargained with and we are not in any position to bargain anyway. We don't suffer joylessly, though. That's what makes us different from the world. When unbelievers suffer they have no consolation, no hope that their suffering amounts to anything or any promises to grasp onto. "We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed" (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). "But in all things we commend ourselves as ministers of God: in much patience, in tribulations, in needs, in distresses, ⁵ in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in sleeplessness, in fastings; ⁶ by purity, by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by the Holy Spirit, by sincere love, ⁷ by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left, ⁸ by honor and dishonor, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; ⁹ as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and yet not killed; ¹⁰ as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things" (2 Corinthians 6:4-10). The road to Calvary is a painful one but it is not without joy. And our joy in the cross does not stem from masochism or a delight in pain itself but in the promise of what that pain is producing in us. We delight in the cross because our good, kind Lord and Savior tells us that it is the pathway to deeper joy. There is no deeper joy available to men than the joy of denying ourselves. There may be great pain in love but love does not see the pain as so very important. It is happy to love without concern for being loved in return and death is always the pathway to true love. This is why the Bible says that Jesus was "the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world." Before the world was created, Jesus Christ knew and accepted that he would have to die for those He redeemed. This was the basis for the love which God showed the world. The death of Christ was the reason God had any genuine compassion to show the world. The entire redemptive history hinged on the fact that Christ would pour out His life to ransom the children of God. Without it, the entire universe would have been obliterated the very second Eve ate that fruit. Apart from the death of Christ God would have not exhibited one ounce of compassion or pity on us. And the death of Christ is the only thing that enables us to die. Through our deaths, we can enter the joy which God prepared for us. So the sooner we embrace death, the sooner we embrace the highest form of joy God has prepared for us. Let us embrace our death today, one moment at a time.

The Gospel!

^"1 And you He made alive, who were dead in trespasses and sins, ² in which you once walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit who now works in the sons of disobedience, ³ among whom also we all once conducted ourselves in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, just as the others.
⁴ But God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, ⁵ even when we were dead in trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), ⁶ and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, ⁷ that in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. ⁸ For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, ⁹ not of works, lest anyone should boast. ¹⁰ For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them." --Ephesians 2:1-10

The Lady of the Green Kirtle

"Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation-- the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

'Leave us,' she said to the two Earthmen. 'And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death.' The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

'How now, my lord Prince,' she said. 'Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety!'

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

'Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you. First-- as for your Ladyship's design of putting me at the head of an army of Earthmen that so I may break out into the Overworld and there, by main force, make myself king over some nation that never did me wrong-- murdering their natural lords and holding their throne as a bloody and foreign tyrant-- now that I know myself, I do utterly abhor and renounce it as plain villany. And second: I am the King's son of Narnia, Rilian, the only child of Caspian, Tenth of that name, whom some call Caspian the Seafarer. Therefore, Madam, it is my purpose as it is also my duty, to depart suddenly from your Highness's court into my own country. Please it you to grant me and my friends safe conduct and a guide through your dark realm.'

Now the Witch said nothing at all, but moved gently across the room, always keeping her face and eyes very steadily towards the Prince. When she had come to a little ark set in the wall not far from the fireplace, she opened it, and took out first a handful of a green powder. This she threw on the fire. It did not blaze much, but a very sweet and drowsy smell came from it. And all through the conversation which followed, that smell grew stronger, and filled the room, and made it harder to think. Secondly, she took out a musical instrument rather like a mandolin. She began to play it with her fingers-- a steady, monotonous thrumming that you didn't notice after a few minutes. But the less you noticed it, the more it got into your brain and your blood. This also made it hard to think. After she had thrummed for a time (and the sweet smell was now strong) she began speaking in a sweet, quiet voice.

'Narnia?' she said. 'Narnia? I have often heard your Lordship utter that name in your ravings. Dear Prince, you are very sick. There is no land called Narnia.'

'Yes there is though, Ma'am,' said Puddleglum. 'You see, I happen to have lived there all my life.'

'Indeed,' said the Witch. 'Tell me, I pray you, where that country is?'

'Up there,' said Puddleglum, stoutly, pointing overhead. 'I-- I don't know exactly where.'

'How?' said the Queen, with a kind, soft, musical laugh, 'Is there a country up among the stones and mortar of the roof?'

'No,' said Puddleglum, struggling a little to get his breath. 'It's in Overworld.'

'And what, or where, pray is this... how do you call it Overworld?'

'Oh don't be so silly,' said Scrubb, who was fighting hard against the enchantment of the sweet smell and the thrumming. 'As if you didn't know! It's up above, up where you can see the sky and the sun and the stars. Why, you've been there yourself. We met you there.'

'I cry you mercy, little brother,' laughed the Witch (you couldn't have heard a lovelier laugh). 'I have no memory of that meeting. But we often meet our friends in strange places when we dream. And unless all dreamed alike, you must not ask them to remember it.'

'Madam,' said the Prince sternly, 'I have already told your Grace that I am the King's son of Narnia.'

'And shalt be, dear friend,' said the Witch in a soothing voice, as if she was humouring a child, 'shalt be king of many imagined lands in thy fancies.'

'We've been there, too,' snapped Jill. She was very angry because she could feel enchantment getting hold of her every moment. But of course the very fact that she could still feel it, showed that it had not yet fully worked.

'And thou art Queen of Narnia too, I doubt not, pretty one,' said the Witch in the same coaxing, half-mocking tone.

'I'm nothing of the sort,' said Jill, stamping her foot. 'We come from another world.'

'Why, this is a prettier game than the other,' said the Witch. 'Tell us, little maid, where is this other world? What ships and chariots go between it and ours?'

Of course a lot of things darted into Jill's head at once: Experiment House, Adela Pennyfather, her own home, radio-sets, cinemas, cars, aeroplanes, ration-books, queues. But they seemed dim and far away. (Thrum-- thrum-- thrum-- when the strings of the Witch's instrument.) Jill couldn't remember the names of the things in our world. And this time it didn't come into her head that she was being enchanted, for now the magic was in its full strength; and of course, the more enchanted you get, the more certain you feel that you are not enchanted at all. She found herself saying (and at the moment it was a relief to say):

'No. I suppose that other world must be all a dream.'

'Yes. It is all a dream,' said the Witch, always thrumming.

'Yes, all a dream,' said Jill.

'There never was such a world,' said the Witch.

'No,' said Jill and Scrubb, 'never was such a world.'

'There never was any world but mine,' said the Witch.

'There never was any world but yours,' said they.

Puddle glum was still fighting hard, 'I don't know rightly what you all mean by a world,' he said, talking like a man who hasn't enough air. 'But you can play that fiddle till your fingers drop off, and still you won't make me forget Narnia; and the whole Overworld too. We'll never see it again, I shouldn't wonder. You may have blotted it out and turned it dark like this, for all I know. Nothing more likely. But I know I was there once. I've seen the sky full of stars. I've seen the sun coming up out of the sea of a morning and sinking behind the mountains at night. And I've seen him up in the midday sky when I couldn't look at him for brightness.'

Puddleglum's words had a very rousing effect. The other three all breathed again and looked at one another like people newly awaked.

'Why, there it is!' cried the Prince. 'Of course! The blessing of Aslan upon this honest Marsh-wiggle. We have all been dreaming, these last few minutes. How could we have forgotten it? Of course we've all seen the sun.'

'By Jove, so we have!' said Scrubb. 'Good for you, Puddleglum! You're the only one of us with any sense, I do believe.'

Then came the Witch's voice, cooing softly like the voice of a wood-pigeon from the high elms in an old garden at three o'clock in the middle of a sleepy, summer afternoon; and it said:

'What is this sun that you all speak of? Do you mean anything by the word?'

'Yes, we jolly well do,' said Scrubb.

'Can you tell me what it's like?' asked the Witch (thrum, thrum, thrum, went the strings).

'Please it your Grace,' said the Prince, very coldly and politely. 'You see that lamp. It is round and yellow and gives light to the whole room; and hangeth moreover from the roof. Now that thing which we call the sun is like the lamp, only far greater and brighter. It giveth light to the whole Overworld and hangeth in the sky.'

'Hangeth from what, my lord?' asked the Witch; and then, while they were all still thinking how to answer her, she added with another of her soft, silver laughs. 'You see? When you try to think out clearly what this sun must be, you cannot tell me. You can only tell me it is like the lamp. Your sun is a dream; and there is nothing in that dream that was not copied from the lamp. The lamp is the real thing; the sun is but a tale, a children's story.'

'Yes, I see now,' said Jill in a heavy, hopeless tone. 'It must be so.' And while she said this, it seemed to her to be very good sense.

Slowly and gravely the Witch repeated, 'There is no sun.' And they all said nothing. She repeated, in a softer and deeper voice. 'There is no sun.' After a pause, and after a struggle in their minds, all four of them said together. 'You are right. There is no sun.' It was such a relief to give in and say it.

'There never was a sun,' said the Witch.

"No. There never was a sun,' said the Prince, and the Marsh-wiggle, and the children.

For the last few minutes Jill had been feeling that there was something she must remember at all costs. And now she did. But it was dreadfully hard to say it. She felt as if huge weights were laid on her lips. At last, with an effort that seemed to take all the good out of her, she said:

'There's Aslan.'

'Aslan?' said the Witch, quickening ever so slightly the pace of her thrumming. 'What a pretty name! What does it mean?'

'He is the great Lion who called us out of our own world,' said Scrubb, 'and sent us into this to find Prince Rilian.'

'What is a lion?' asked the Witch.

'Oh hang it all!' said Scrubb. 'Don't you know? How can we describe it to her? Have you ever seen a cat?'

'Surely,' said the Queen. 'I love cats.'

'Well a lion is a little bit-- only a little bit, mind you-- like a huge cat-- with a mane. At least it's not like a horse's mane, you know, it's more like a judge's wig. And it's yellow. And terrifically strong.'

The Witch shook her head. 'I see,' she said, 'that we should do no better with your lion, as you call it, than we did with your sun. You have seen lamps, and so you imagined a bigger and better lamp and called it the sun. You've seen cats, and now you want a bigger and better cat, and it's to so called a lion. Well, 'til a pretty make-believe, though, to say truth, it would suit you all better if you were younger. And look how you can put nothing into your make-believe without copying it from the real world, this world of mine, which is the only world. But even you children are too old for such play. As for you, my lord Prince, that art a man full grown, fie upon you! Are you not ashamed of such toys? Come, all of you. Put away these childish tricks. I have work for you all in the real world. There is no Narnia, no Overworld, no sky, no sun, no Aslan. And now, to bed all. And let us begin a wiser life tomorrow. But first, to bed; to sleep; deep sleep, soft pillows, sleep without foolish dreams.'

The Prince and the two children were standing with their heads hung down, their cheeks flushed, their eyes half closed; the strength all gone from them; the enchantment almost complete. But Puddle glum, desperately gathering all his strength, walked over to the fire. Then he did a very brave thing. He knew it wouldn't hurt him quite as much as it would hurt a human; for his feet (which were bare) were webbed and hard and cold-blooded like a duck's. But he knew it would hurt him badly enough; and so it did. With his bare foot he stamped on the fire, grinding a large part of it into ashes on the flat hearth. And three things happened at once.

First, the sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell. This instantly made everyone's brain far clearer. The Prince and the children held up their heads again and opened their eyes.

Secondly, the Witch, in a loud, terrible voice, utterly different from all the sweet tones she had been using up till now, called out, 'What are you doing? Dare to touch my fire again, mud filth, and I'll turn the blood to fire inside your veins.'

Thirdly, the pain itself made Puddleglum's head for a moment perfectly clear and he knew exactly what he really thought. There is nothing like a good shock of pain for dissolving certain kinds of magic.

'One word, Ma'am,' he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. 'One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-- trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say'" (The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis pgs. 149-159).

I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say

I heard the voice of Jesus say
'Come unto me and rest.
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon my chest.'
I came to Jesus as I was
So weary, worn, and sad.
I found in Him a resting place
And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say
'Behold, I freely give
The living water. Thirsty one,
Stoop down and drink and live.'
I came to Jesus and I drank
Of that life-giving stream!
My thirst was quenched!
My soul revived!
And now I live in Him!

I heard the voice of Jesus say
'I am this dark world's light.
Look unto me; thy morn shall rise,
And all thy day be bright.'
I came to Jesus and I found
In Him my Star, my Sun.
And in that light of life I'll walk
Till traveling days are done!

Question for everyone

Got a question for you all...

Jesus is described in John 1 as the Word. The Bible is described as the word of God. Previously I had thought it quite ridiculous to say that Jesus and the Bible were the same thing but have recently started wondering if that could be the case. What do you all think? Is the Bible God?