Why tell the Shepherds? An Alternate Theory.

I read the Christmas story to Liam a lot these days, and I’ve been thinking about the shepherds.  Why did God choose to send his angelic army-choir to an obscure hillside where a bunch of blue-collar Joes were working the night shift?  We don’t know anything about these particular shepherds, but we can assume that, like today’s fast-food workers, they wouldn’t be working such an ignominious job if they were skilled, educated, or of good family reputation.

The commonly-accepted theory is that God sent the angels to announce the birth of the Messiah to these shepherds because God cares about the lowly, the poor, and those without power or position.  There may also be a reference to Jesus’ future role as shepherd of the church, the Good Shepherd, who would lay down his life for his sheep.  It’s also interesting to note that King David, a central figure in first-century Hebrew identity, also started his working life tending sheep.

I’d like to throw out an alternate theory.  I wonder if God sent his angelic choir-army to tell the shepherds about Jesus’ birth because he knew no one would listen to them.  In this scenario, God’s having a tough time keeping the news to himself.  He has to tell someone, but he can’t prematurely risk the life of Jesus by letting word get out amongst the powerful, who would tell the ruling elite.  As it is, Joseph has to flee with his family to Egypt for two years to avoid having Jesus killed by King Herod after the three Magi inadvertently let the news slip.

The book of Luke (the only Gospel to record the angelic visit) says that everyone who heard the tale of the baby in the feeding trough was amazed.  But who were those people that heard?  Other shepherds? The families of shepherds?  Think about who the shepherds would tell. They probably spread the news at the local watering hole, not in the synagogue.  They were more likely to talk about it at the sheep auctions than in the halls of power.  In other words, the shepherds were safe precisely because they weren’t connected to power.

There’s another piece of evidence for this, though it’s an argument from silence.  If the angelic announcement had been to more savory or well-born folk, Jesus would have been watched, famous his whole life.  He wouldn’t have exploded onto the scene as if from nowhere at the beginning of his ministry 30 years later.  People in the synagogue in Nazareth wouldn’t have said, “Isn’t this Joseph’s son? Why is he teaching with such authority, unlike our priests and teachers of the law?”  They wouldn’t have expected so little of him because he would already have had a reputation. A visit from a warrior of light, after all, is hard to forget.

Leave a comment to let me know what you think.

Seattle Church Plant

My friend Dusty is planting a church in Seattle. I was curious, and I thought others might be interested in what he’s doing. So I produced this video to share his adventure.
Note: It’s my first video ever, so please don’t judge it too harshly!
Enjoy,
Andrew

Roman worship

Ed. note: Written by hand February 9, 2008 at our home at 491 S. Reed Ave. and posted later. 

History is full of treasures and surprises.  In Will Durant’s Caesar and Christ I was privileged to read about the Roman religious sacrificial system.  It turns out that animals sacrificed to Rome’s gods were thought to become the gods themselves.

Thus it was that the sacrifice was thought to be not just a sacrifice of an animal, but a sacrifice of the god himself.  I see in this the seed or foreshadow of the concept of Christ’s substitutionary atonement.  After the sacrifice was complete, the animal’s internal organs were given to sacred flames and the flesh served to the priests and worshipers.  Thus it was hoped that the god’s strength and glory would pass to the people.

There are several ways to interpret the relationship between this practice and Jesus’ Godly sacrifice.  One is that Christianity merely borrowed the concept from older religion.  That may be.  But I prefer to see in this practice a foreshadow of humanity’s spiritual center of gravity: Christ’s sacrificial death and glorious resurrection.  The Romans were no fools, and this drama, this death-of-god, is hardwired into humans past and present.  It’s a truth we know with a source we don’t.

Jesus may have had this god-sacrifice in mind when he said in John 6:53, “Unless you eat the flesh of the son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.”  He was indicating that the glory and strength of God can pass into our lives only because of his sacrificial death and atonement.

The ancients would have understood, and now I do, too.

Amazing Grace

Ed. note: Written by hand January 30, 2008 at the pediatrician’s office and posted later. Liam had pneumonia.

Dean Parento is in the hospital. This morning we prayed for his salvation. My thoughts pursuant to that prayer are wretched; a self-indictment. They wandered along a path peopled by three figures: Dean, John Newton and me. These thoughts are set to a soundtrack: Chris Tomlin’s rendition of Amazing Grace. I know I’ve written unfavorably about this song in the past. Witness me now despising my own hubris.

Tomlin’s version, coincidentally, is also the soundtrack to the recent movie of the same name. The movie portrays John Newton, the author of Amazing Grace, as an old man haunted bu the ghosts of 20,000 slaves who died in his charge while he was captain of a slave-trading ship. The committer of terrible offenses against God and man, he felt the weight of God’s forgiveness palpably. Truly amazing is the grace that would forgive such sins. This forgiveness breathes as if it was the voice of the wind. It tells me of its own miraculousness. And I know that forgiveness is always a miracle, whether applied to Dean, John Newton, or me.

Too often I see myself only in peripheral vision and assume that I’m wearing armor, that I somehow wear a clean character. When I stop and look down, though, that armor turns to filthy rags. I realize again that I’m no more worthy of forgiveness than John Newton. And that gives me tremendous hope for Dean. The fact that I’m not beyond Christ’s grasp means that Dean isn’t, either. When I pray for Dean’s salvation, I know that I’m reaching beyond possibility to the realm of miracles.

But that’s where forgiveness lives, and from thence has Christ rendered my own salvation. “And like a flood, his mercy rains (reigns). Unending love, amazing grace.”

Amazing Grace, indeed.

Book Review: Mere Christianity

Ed. note: I don’t feel adequate to even review a book by C.S. Lewis. For years I’ve considered the man a literary Everest.  After reading this book, I still feel that way.  But audacity has never slowed me much, so here goes:

Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewsis garners a score of 5 (out of a possible 5) for importance of content, originality of thought, clarity, and skill of expression.  The first half of the book was given as a series of radio talks during World War 2 in Britain.  It’s a brilliant (and brilliantly simple) defense of theism in general and Christianity in particular; a cause plead as if to an unbelieving world.

Every section of the book has the peculiar quality of being at once relatable and theological; original and orthodox.  You feel as if Lewis is sitting on a porch with you appealing to the ordinary, sensible chap you feel yourself to be.  He’s strident in his appeals, but not so strident as to make you feel uncomfortable.  Lewis is an analogy-artist.

Each chapter is short and digestible (like bathroom reading-type short) and sufficiently small in its scope.

I picked this book up because it’s considered by many to be a must-read.  I must now number myself among those people.  You’re free to borrow my copy, but not for too long.  I’ll definitely be diving back in from time to time.

My desire to be an artist

Recently, my heart has been tugged. It’s as if the Holy Spirit, called by some the Hound of Heaven, has been on my trail. He’s been giving me a desire that, at some points in my life, would have shocked me. It’s a desire to be an artist who impacts the world for Christ. I want very much for my art to communicate meaningful things and touch people’s hearts.

WHETHER I’m even an artist is a matter of serious debate, at least in my own mind. I know I create things, and I know know to execute a few techniques. But I feel an artist should have something visual to say, the ability to say it, and an audience of some kind. Thus far I’ve taken a few pictures, only one of which has achieved any significant audience or visibility. And that picture doesn’t say anything too profound. It’s just a cheese-ball crowd-pleaser. I’m not even sure that photography is my medium; lately I’ve been wanting to paint (though I don’t really know anything about painting or where to start).

But that desire is there, and it hasn’t gone away. I pray that whatever the medium and whichever the way, I’ll be obedient to God and create things which reflect his image brightly and compel people toward Him. Pray that for me, please.

Robbery in progress

Last night I stopped a robbery from happening.  I went to the studio late to take care of some things (late being 9 pm for us).  I heard a harsh metal-on-metal sound out my back door and opened the door to see what it was.  It was a young man in a gray hooded sweatshirt, and I must have scared the heck out of him.  He ran like crazy.  Naturally, I gave chase (but not too far).  I yelled at him, which only made him run faster.

I called the police and my neighbor.  I talked with the police once, then after my neighbor arrived I talked with them again.  The metal sounds I heard, we found, were the hinges being taken out of my neighbor’s back door.

This kind of thing makes me nervous.  Makes me want to get a better back door and maybe a security system.  Makes me want to hold more tightly to what is mine, especially since I know there are people willing to take it unlawfully.  A little paranoia is not bad.  But I know that fear and holding tighter to material things are not healthy responses.

So before I left work, I prayed for the guy who was trying to break into my neighbor’s church.  I prayed that God would end the destructive and unhealthy patterns in his life.  I prayed that if he was trying to steal to support a drug habit, God would set him free from his bondage to chemical substances.  I prayed that God would bless him, and that it would end the practice of violating other people by stealing.

What Harry Potter taught me about the Bible

I have a confession to make, though it’s not a very dirty or juicy one:  I read the 7th Harry Potter book within 48 hours of its public release.  Furthermore, I confess that I enjoyed it.  And no, I’m not about to run out and join a Satanic cult, wear black eyeliner, or start casting silly spells.  (I know at least one of you wondered about that!)  In fact, I learned several lessons about the Bible while reading Harry Potter.  Raised your eyebrows, have I?  Well, follow along as I share the lessons:

1. How to read in context

In ‘Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows,’ the characters talk about a book that’s been written regarding their friend, Albus Dumbledore.  The book is largely lies, and it’s excerpted for a few pages of the larger work, the Harry Potter book.  If you would pick up the book and read those few pages, you’d get a totally inaccurate picture of the overall plot.  Similarly, if you read the Bible carelessly enough, you’ll find that it says there is no God.  A glance at the context, though, will tell you that this message isn’t the intent of the author.  What he really said looks more like, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’ (Psalm 14:1)”.  I wonder how many people are savvy enough to pick up the context clues in the Harry Potter book but still insist on cherry-picking the Bible to make it match their pre-conceived notions?

2. The power of narrative

I read the Harry Potter book on the first weekend it came out.  That means I read all 784 pages in two days.  I wanted to finish the story before I went back to work on Monday, so I read it all day Saturday and Sunday.  This left me in the interesting position of going to church Sunday morning, right in the middle of my Harry Potter weekend.  The worship and the story of Christ and his sacrifice for me were so much more meaningful, and it’s because I was tuned into another deeply-felt narrative.  The themes of sacrifice, struggle, quest and the search for truth were close at hand, since I’d been treading those paths with J.K. Rowling’s novel all weekend.  It was easy for me to turn those thoughts to the cross and the ultimate struggle of good and evil.

It’s true that these themes are more read into the text than read out of it.  But such is the result of reading with a redeemed mind.  It’s not what Harry Potter brings to me, but what I bring to Harry Potter that shapes my conclusions.  That’s why I’m not scared to read Harry Potter or any other controversial material: because I read it with a redeemed and, hopefully, informed mind.

Utah photos, part 5 and final

Friends and family,

Here are the last of the Utah photos. The rest of the team is staying until Saturday, but we’ll be driving back tomorrow. We need to be in Lodi for Ruth and Nate’s wedding on Saturday, so we had to leave earlier than the others. The rest of the team is headed to the mountains to work on building a Christian camp. They’re not quite sure what they’ll be doing yet, but it will be something in the realm of construction or trail-building. We’ll miss them, but we’ll also be glad to be back in the Golden State. We leave behind some great new friends in Michael and Rachel Trostrud.

Enjoy the last of the photos,

Andrew