Marriages and Marriages

After participating in two more weddings this summer I can confidently say that marriage is a mysteriously GOOD thing. I don't profess to understand it, but there is something incredible (and beautiful, and bizarre, and life-changing, and marvelous) about the act of marriage. It is certainly the most profound expression of love that I (and all humans for that matter!) can imagine.

Because marriage is such a powerful expression of love, the book of Ruth has recently caught my attention. It's a short book found just after Judges and before 1 Samuel and it recounts the story of Ruth, a Moabite woman. The long and short of the story is that Ruth, recently widowed, finds a husband, Boaz, during a difficult time of famine. But what makes this story so beautiful is the fact that Ruth is a foreigner - a Moabitess - and would not have normally been married to Boaz, a man from Bethlehem of Judah - a Jew. In fact, Moab was actually on the other side of the Salt (Dead) Sea. Marrying foreigners was not only frowned upon in the Jewish culture but it was often strictly prohibited.

This is what makes the story so good: Boaz the Jew marries Ruth the Moabitess. But why? Deeper in the story we find Ruth practicing the old custom of gleaning (gathering ears of grain that have fallen to the ground) from Boaz's field. So not only is Ruth a foreigner in Judah, but she is boldly gleaning food from the field of a Jew! And this is precisely when Boaz notices Ruth. So he goes on to tell her to continue gleaning from his field.

Long story short: Boaz marries Ruth because of Ruth's humility and courage. But there's more. There's more to the story because, as we know, this is just one story among many other stories in the Bible. In fact, there are many, many stories all within one Grand Narrative; and that is the Grand Narrative of God's marriage with the Cosmos, specifically Humankind.

This little story of Ruth and Boaz would have little value if it didn't so appropriately display the marriage that God has entered into with humankind through Jesus. I find it no small coincidence that Jesus was particularly adamant about welcoming foreigners into the family of God. What better way to foreshadow this cosmic event than to share the story of Ruth being welcomed into the family of Boaz?

I also find it quite fascinating that Boaz invites Ruth to share bread dipped in wine (v. 2:14) in the very same way that Jesus offered bread and wine to His disciples at the Last Supper.

And is it any coincidence that Jesus would tell so many parables about vineyards and fields? So many of those Kingdom Parables portray the Kingdom in which God invites Israel to maintain and enjoy creation in a new, righteous way. Surely there is a parallel in this story for the Moabitess who boldly leaves her home on the other side of the sea to work in the field of the Jew.

It is truly something special to witness two human beings leaving their families to enter into a marriage covenant together. Seeing so many of my friends recently do this has been an awesome experience. I cannot fathom another way to express love better than through marriage. Perhaps that is because I cannot fully understand love in the first place. Or perhaps because there is no better human way to express love.

Or, maybe marriage is really what love is all about. Maybe marriage is what the whole Story is about - a marriage between a wealthy landowner and a foreigner in need.

Fear and Trembling: A Dialectical Lyric

Soren Kierkegaard (hereafter, "SK") authored Fear and Trembling under the pseudonym of Johannes de Silentio. Most scholars believe SK did this to distance himself from the content. The title of the book originates from the notion that Johannes de Silentio is overcome with fear and trembling upon reading the biblical story of Abraham and Isaac from Genesis 22. In this story God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac; Abraham obeys only to have his son spared from death at the last moment when God provides a ram for sacrifice instead. Despite Abraham’s insane neglect of the ethical, he is deemed the “Father of the Faith” because of his obedience. It is from this starting point that Johannes de Silentio begins his discourse.

Firstly, it must be acknowledged that, at the very least, Fear and Trembling is a cry from SK for nominal Christians to consider the depth and danger of what they claim to be and believe. While not all of his readers would be able to understand the philosophical arguments, certainly most could empathize with de Silentio’s inability to fathom this complicated story. There is no question that the mere topic of this work was aimed to agitate apathetic Christians by taking a familiar story and displaying its complications.

Moving further toward the details, Johannes de Silentio paints a portrait of Abraham as found in the Genesis account and deduces a number of claims. The first is that Abraham’s greatness came through powerlessness. The second is that Abraham had faith for this life. And the third is that Abraham must have believed the absurd, or otherwise he would have acted differently; this is why he is regarded as the Father of the Faith. From here the author then addresses problems with relation to faith and ethics.

The first and greatest difficulty is what de Silentio calls “a teleological suspension of the ethical.” What this means is that, for Abraham, the universal ethic (that which is understood by all to be moral) was temporarily suspended as the telos or goal of his behavior, and the only telos for Abraham was love for God demonstrated by his obedience. Consequently, Abraham’s faith then confirms that the single individual “is higher than the universal.” To put it more simply, Abraham’s purpose was outside the universal and cannot be related to the universal. If Abraham’s act of faith cannot be explained in terms of the universal ethic, then a new category must be created to describe it. This de Silentio deems “the absurd” and writes, “He acts on the strength of the absurd; for it is precisely the absurd that as the single individual he is higher than the universal.” From this first difficulty it may be concluded that Abraham acted in a way that suspended the universal ethic as the goal and believed in something outside of it, something absurd – in this case, God’s Will.

The second difficulty inquires whether there is an absolute duty to God. The central problem here is that the universal ethic becomes confused with the absolute: God. SK’s opponent, Hegel, argued that the universal ethic was the absolute and could be interchanged with the will of God. But the story of Abraham clearly illustrates that this is not the case. Abraham’s faith required him to act in a way that contradicted the ethical (i.e. though a father loves his son, Abraham was ready to kill Isaac). de Silentio thus concludes that faith is the most absolute allegiance to God, and the universal is subservient to it. Therefore, the individual cannot be understood by the mass. This concept is beautifully represented in the way that Abraham becomes a foreigner in his own land. From this second difficulty it may be concluded that there is no absolute duty to God, but rather the individual’s independent relation to God that is outside, above, and superior to the universal.

The third dilemma concerns Abraham’s concealment of his plan to murder his son (he did not tell his wife, Sarah, his friend, Eleazar, nor his son, Isaac). It is similar to the first two problems and yet it further emphasizes Abraham’s separation from the universal and his connection to the absolute. The unfortunate reality of Abraham’s situation was that he could not disclose his plan had he wanted. “Abraham is silent – but he cannot speak, therein lies the distress and anguish. He can say what he will, but he cannot say it in a way that another understands it.” Abraham is completely and utterly alone in his faith. However, from his actions it can be concluded that he viewed obedience to God as the only way. From this third dilemma the author illustrates that Abraham’s concealment was necessary in order to remain faithful to God.

At this point it may seem as though Abraham was deliriously devoted to God and had given up on his family, namely Isaac. But this was not the case. In fact, it is here that the entire paradox of faith is born: Abraham believed that by obeying God he would regain Isaac through the absurd (that which is outside of the universal ethic). When called to the task, Abraham resigns his claim to Isaac because God is the absolute; but then, through faith, Abraham believes he will regain Isaac through the absurd because God is Good. This is evidenced in Abraham’s reply to Isaac in Genesis 22:8, “God will provide himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” It is the greatest of paradoxes, but, if Abraham is the Father the Faith, then it must be so. What Johannes de Silentio is arguing is not simply the moral of the story but a genuine ontological claim! If Abraham is the epitome of faith, then his actions must transcend that which is known as the universal and relate to a far superior reality. Certainly a story such as this ought to elicit at least the smallest of fears and slightest of trembling!

Ultimately Fear and Trembling is about the foundation of faith: love. It exhibits the paradox that the one who loves God must renounce everything, and yet regains it by faith through the absurd. The one who loves God loves God alone and nothing else. The one who loves God needs nothing else nor desires anything else. However, through one’s love for God one gains everything. Abraham loved God alone and resigned everything, even his family. And yet through his love, he gained faith in the absurd and regained everything, including his family. “Only one who draws the knife gets the Isaac.”

The Strength of Simon of Cyre'ne

On April 10th, Good Friday, I walked The Stations of the Cross in the impoverished neighborhood of Kensington in North-East Philadelphia. From street corners through parks to empty lots and a baseball field, I walked and listened and stared as I watched Jesus taking His final steps to the Cross.

In the fifth station a man named Simon of Cyre'ne is asked, compelled, or forced to carry Jesus' cross to Gol'gotha (Matt. 27:32). It was at this station, standing in the middle of Joseph Conrad Park, that I was overcome with the weight of a burden - a heaviness that I could neither specify nor disregard. A rush of fear overwhelmed me as I questioned if I too might have to carry the Cross for a leg of the journey. My legs were weak as leaned against the fence in the middle of the park. All that came to me was fear and apprehension as I did not feel fit for the task.

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To carry the Cross! Is there any burden heavier than this? Is there any other burden at all? How frightening a thought! How appropriate to tremble in fear at the call to carry the Cross (Luke 14:27)!

And yet, for the person who knows God's Love, there is a strange appeal in the notion of carrying the Cross. There is a beguiling understanding in the depths of one's heart that, no matter how odd and upside-down, the burden of the Cross must be so! For the Cross is not the end, but rather the beginning. The Cross is the very instrument through which redemption is made possible. Jesus' Way is the only Way. The Way of the Cross is the only Way that leads to the Life.

Therefore, the Cross becomes not the heavy burden that crushes a person unto death, but the light load that brings purpose and joy. Jesus said, "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matt. 11:30). Surely this is more than a satirical quip! A yoke, of course, involves two persons together sharing a load. Jesus is not offering a "pie in the sky" life of luxury, but rather a kinship of suffering.

In his Gospel of Sufferings, Soren Kierkegaard writes that, "when the need is greatest, help is nearest ... the greater the suffering the nearer to perfection" (p. 23). Accordingly then, the weight of the Cross is the yoke that brings us side by side with the Perfect One. Further on Kierkegaard writes that whenever one learns from suffering "then it is always something about himself and about his relation to God" (p. 57). If this be the case, then the burden of the Cross is not only the means by which we share with Jesus, but also the same way that we come to know ourselves as Children of God. For Christ also suffered in order that He learn through obedience (Heb. 5:8) and become Perfect through suffering (Heb. 2:10).

To carry the Cross! Is there any burden lighter than this? Is there any other burden at all? How appropriate it is to rejoice at the opportunity to learn the Way of the Cross in order to become yoked with the Perfect One!
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And so I stood in the center of Joseph Conrad Park, afraid to take the next step, afraid of the burden of the Cross. The fear is real. It is what gives the burden weight. The self-love is real. It is what gives the Cross Its cost. But it is Jesus' Way. And Jesus' Way is the only Way. So I moved along to the rest of the Stations filled with this heavy reality. And truthfully, I still felt a disconnect from the burden; as if there was no way that I could possibly carry the Cross.

However, later that same afternoon I attended a Peace rally outside Collissimo's Gun Shop on Spring Garden St. Upon my arrival I was asked to help hold a gigantic sign that read: ACT NOW TO END GUN VIOLENCE. As we unrolled the colossal sign I was amazed at its size, it must have been over 50 ft long. But the real shock came when we picked up the dense, canvas piece of propaganda. It was much heavier than I had imagined. Nonetheless, four others and I managed to display the sign adequately for the next 45 minutes.

During the rally I gazed over my shoulder at the wooden cross standing tallest among the banners on the stage. While I stared at this symbol - with all of Its weight - I also felt the fatigue in my own arms, shoulders, legs, and back as I held the sign. It sometimes happens in a moment: when the clearest of messages seems to occur and then disappears only leaving that which you know to be True.

Consider This: You're Brilliant!

Not a day goes by that we don't take many things for granted. But particularly among these is our ability to reason. Human beings are brilliant creatures and have been born into a world full of potential and responsibility. Unfortunately, however, we rarely stop to think about the implications of such an amazing capability as human reason and logic.

C.S. Lewis writes that, “Acts of thinking are no doubt events; but they are a very special sort of events.” And, “They [acts of thinking] are insights into, or knowings of, something other than themselves" (Miracles, p. 25,26). If I have understood Lewis correctly, then acts of human reason are (at the very least) a unique kind of behavior that allow one to perceive something other than or outside of oneself. This basic concept is helpful in understanding the uniqueness of human reason and ought to provoke human beings to consider the implications of such a capability. Instead of discussing the nature of reason and logic, I would much rather present my thoughts on their implications.

Working out of this foundational concept – that acts of reason are insights into other-than-self realities – there are crucial implications for all human beings, especially for Christians. The first is that humankind is relational: we have the unique capability to relate to that which is outside of our own being. In other words, we are made for relationships. And not just with other human beings but with the whole of creation as well! If we are to take this implication seriously then we ought to consider how we relate to both one another and all of creation.

The second implication is that through reason we have been given the ability to value. This facet of human reason is intimately linked to the character of God. Since the earliest accounts of God’s interaction with humanity, God has been a God of value – a Being that judges and measures all reality unto Himself (or Herself or Itself). Therefore, through value we can assess, analyze, and critique everything with which we relate in a manner not unlike God. Because God has bestowed to us this wonderful ability to make inferences based on value, we must act accordingly. It is with great care that we ought to assess and discern that which God values so that we may live in a way pleasing to God.

Without reason there is only assumption (and not even educated assumption! It’s practically impossible to imagine what assumptions without logic would be like; perhaps we might be more like animals?). A Christianity based on assumptions is far too dangerous for my liking. However, the gifts of reason and logic allow human beings to study scripture with critical minds. This will no doubt lead to the use of explanatory methods and other critical study methods.

Although these are not all of the implications, human reason must be acknowledged as a unique act of knowing that allows us to relate, to value, and to study critically all of reality outside of our own selves.

Aristides on the Early Church

The more I learn about the earliest followers of Jesus, the more I am challenged to consider what it means to live as a Christian today. The many accounts and letters in the New Testament certainly reveal the revolutionary behavior of the early Christian communities, but possibly even more stirring are the accounts of those who witnessed the early Christians living the Way of the Kingdom of God - a lifestyle so upside-down and contrary to the norm that pagans were both irritated and amazed.

Consider the following picture painted by Aristides, a philosopher around A.D. 125:

They walk in all humility and kindness, and falsehood is not found among them, and they lone one another. They despise not the widow, and grieve not the orphan. He that hath, distributeth liberally to him that hath not. If they see a stranger, they bring him under their roof, and rejoice over him, as it were their own brother: for they call themselves brethren, not after the flesh, but after the spirit and in God; but when one of their poor passes away from the world, and any of them sees him, then he provides for his burial according to his ability; and if they hear that any of their number is imprisoned or oppressed for the name of their Messiah, all of them provide for his needs, and if it is possible that he may be delivered, they deliver him. And if there is among them a man that is poor and needy, and they have not an abundance of necessaries, they fast two or three days that they may supply the needy with their necessary food.

Billy Bragg "Christ For President" Lyrics

A few months ago I wrote about how we might re-translate the Good News so that it finds a bit more meaning for the 21st century (see "What's in a Title? A Glance at Mark 1:1"). I love this track that Billy Bragg wrote. If anything, at least it gets us thinking...


Let's have Christ for President.
Let us have him for our King.
Cast your vote for the Carpenter
that you call the Nazarene.
The only way we can ever beat
these crooked politician men
Is to run the money changers out of the temple
And put the Carpenter in
O It's Jesus Christ our president
God above our king
With a job and a pension for young and old
We will make hallelujah ring
Every year we waste enough
to feed the ones who starve
We build our civilization up
and we shoot it down with wars
But with the Carpenter on the seat
away up in the capital town
The USA would be on the way prosperity bound!

“In Like a Lion, Out Like a Lamb”

They say that the month of March begins like a lion and ends like a lamb. Not only does this axiom find its meaning in the weather patterns of March (beginning fiercely and ending mild), but it also stems from the relative positions of constellations Leo (the lion) and Aries (the ram).

Both of these meanings, however, point us to the paradoxical nature of our world and our own lives – and ultimately God. The changing weather exhibits that nature is both fierce and tender. The shifting stars illustrate that life is never static, even when all seems still in the night sky. And through all of this we know that God is revealed. We are able to observe that God is both fierce and tender. Dynamic and yet unchanging. Moving and yet faithful. We recognize that God is so awesome that we cannot fathom, and yet we also notice that, despite our lack of understanding, God is good and close to us.

I cannot help but think of C.S. Lewis’ words in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe concerning Aslan, the lion: “Is Aslan Safe?” "Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you!" (p. 80).

As the month of March reveals the thaw of spring, let us not forget that God is both infinitely Great and intimately Good – both Lion and Lamb.

The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.

-Isaiah 11:6

The REAL Santa!

I met the real Santa Claus. No, seriously. He passed the one true test. Let me explain.

I work at Saint Christopher's Episcopal Church in Gladwyne, PA. This past Sunday we had a parish Christmas party with all the works - even a Santa Claus for the kids. But little did we know that when we called to hire an actor to play Santa Claus we would get the real deal.

Most people think Santa's got to have a real beard, rosy cheeks, and a jolly laugh. Well this is all true, but it's not really what counts.

Our Santa had all those things, but it was only until after it came time to pay him that we found out that he was the real Santa Claus. When our secretary was ready and willing to settle up, he politely asked that the $125 be donated to his charity to help families in need. Apparently the real Santa Claus does this every Christmas and doesn't earn a dime for himself.

And after that he got into a giant sleigh pulled by eight flying reindeer and flew off into the sky. No joke.

Power in Weakness: A Paradox

The New Testament may be summed up in two words: paradox and eschatology. If one were to read through from Matthew to Revelation, it would not be long before the unexpected paradoxes and counter-cultural messages became obvious. And though there are many accounts of God’s mysterious work in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul best summarizes the work that God has done in Christ when he states that God’s “power is made perfect in weakness,” (2 Cor. 12:9). This fundamental paradox of the New Testament is in many aspects the core of the Christian Gospel. However, the theme of God’s power in weakness must be coupled with the eschatology of the resurrection, for it is here that this paradox receives its significance. Without the eschatological implications of Christ’s resurrection, the paradox would be meaningless. Paul understood this, as did the authors of the Gospels, Hebrews, and Revelation. It is Christ’s death that provides the paradox, and Christ’s resurrection that produces our eschatological hope. Upon these two concepts Paul makes “power made perfect in weakness” a dominant theme for the New Testament.
The four Gospels are themselves the crux of the divine paradox. They are filled with numerous examples of how God chose to work in a way unexpected by all. That God would become human in the form of a baby (Matt. 1:18), come from the poor town of Nazareth (Mk 1:9), heal Gentiles and women (Matt. 8:5, Mk 5:28), serve others (Mk 10:45), ride a donkey in triumphal entry (Luke 19:35), and prophesy his own death (Matt. 16:21) illustrates the paradoxical nature of God’s plan. However, each gospel’s account of the Messiah’s death is certainly the most befuddling occurrence in the entire New Testament. Not only did first century Jews expect an all-powerful Messiah to vindicate the oppressed Israelites, but even the disciples were disappointed and confused that Jesus had died (Luke 24:21). However, as the Gospels testify, Jesus’ death was not the final word. Each gospel recounts the resurrection of Jesus as God’s vindication of the suffering Son of Man. Thus, it is in the death and resurrection of Jesus that God’s paradox of power in weakness is realized in its most explicit form.
Though the four Gospels share many things in common, they too each have distinct characteristics that illustrate the above said paradox. For example, Luke’s account includes a lengthy birth narrative including a focus on Mary, the mother of Jesus. Specifically, Mary’s Magnificat emphasizes how God has lifted up the lowly in a paradoxical manner (1:46-55). Luke also includes the broader themes of Jesus as a different kind of king and a different kind of prophet. In one case Jesus is a humble king, unlike the kind that was to be expected (19:35). In another case, Jesus is a rejected prophet that was not anticipated of the Messiah (4:24). It is especially Jesus’ role as a prophet that enables his eschatological claims to be trusted.
Matthew includes in his gospel examples of Jesus interacting with various scandalous people groups. Nothing could have seemed more puzzling to first century men and women than Jesus’ invitation to Gentiles to enter the family of God (Matt. 12:18-21). In addition to this, Matthew includes the famous Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus turns the Law on its head (Matt 5-7). More specifically, Jesus lists the most unexpected recipients of God’s blessings, including those who suffer for righteousness’ sake (Matt. 5:3-11). It is Matthew’s account of Jesus’ relation to outsiders that further reinforces God’s paradoxical work.
John’s gospel also displays the mystery of power in weakness. Though the scene is not unique to this gospel, the washing of the disciples’ feet in John 13 becomes particularly revealing of the Messiah’s servant nature as John records the conversation between Peter and Jesus in John 13:8. Furthermore, in Johannine fashion, a lengthy dialogue between Pilate and Jesus is presented in John 18 and 19. During this dialogue the topic of power arises and it is here that John tethers his claim for power in weakness to the cross. This dialogue is significant in illustrating Jesus’ condemnation on the worldly understanding of power in contrast to God’s power that is perfected in weakness.
Matthew, Luke, and John are all capable of recounting the paradoxical nature of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ, but it is Mark’s gospel that perhaps does it the best. Mark’s emphasis on Jesus as the suffering Son of Man exemplifies how God’s power does not manifest itself in ways that we would expect. Though Jesus is displayed as the powerful Son of God in chapters 1-8, chapters 9-16 become the focal point of this gospel. Over a third of Mark’s narrative recounts the last days of Jesus’ life. What Mark is largely emphasizing is the cost of discipleship – the call to serve and suffer. Perhaps one reason for this focus on Jesus’ suffering is that Mark wrote his narrative during a time of fierce tension in the first century. It is probable that many Christians during Mark’s day were walking the line between non-violent martyrdom and violent zealotry.
Still, historical context aside, the call to suffering in Mark’s gospel is clear. Jesus’ invitation to die for God’s Kingdom is a powerful indication of what it means to be perfected in weakness (8:34, 10:37-39). In the same manner, Jesus makes an explicit claim concerning his own purpose as a suffering servant (10:45). However, despite Mark’s focus on Jesus’ suffering, death does not have the final word. Like the other gospels, Mark includes the resurrection of Jesus and recounts God’s victory over sin (16:6). After his rejection, suffering, and death, God vindicates Jesus and fulfills the promise of true power made perfect in weakness. Therefore, it is in the resurrection that Christ becomes the eschatological “first fruits” that Paul proclaims in 1 Corinthians 15:23. And, it is upon Christ’s death and resurrection that Paul bases the theme of power in weakness seen so clearly in his Epistles.
Though Paul deals with a multitude of issues in his ministry, his letters to the church in Corinth provide many examples of the theme at hand. From the outset of 1 Corinthians Paul makes clear that “the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to those who are being saved it is the power of God,” (1 Cor. 1:18). Interestingly, this statement is preceded by Paul’s defense of his lack of eloquence in preaching the gospel “lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power, (1 Cor. 1:17). Because Paul is largely writing in regard to his own ministry, he makes his own weakness an example of how God uses weakness to display power. Paul continues in his letter to condemn the worldly standards of power and to promote the paradoxical mysteries of God’s work (1 Cor. 2:8, 3:19, 4:1).
Following a lengthy section dealing with specific issues in the Corinthian church, Paul returns to the theme of God’s power in weakness in chapter 15 of 1 Corinthians. It is in this powerful chapter that Paul emphasizes the eschatological reality of the resurrection and encourages the Corinthian church to remain steadfast to the way of the cross. By beginning and ending his letter with these themes Paul undoubtedly makes the connection between the folly of the cross and the hope of the resurrection.
2 Corinthians is a revealing letter into the nature of Paul’s ministry and it provides us with interesting historical details about his relationship with the Corinthian church as well as his opponents. Still, however, the paradox of the cross remains Paul’s maxim here as well. This can be seen especially in Paul’s use of the metaphor of the Roman procession in 2:14-17. This metaphor is used to indicate Christ’s victory over death and, in a more forthright manner, to vindicate Paul’s suffering. By identifying himself as a captive being lead by God in triumph, Paul makes clear that suffering and humiliation are not merely necessary costs of ministry but the very means by which the gospel is spread. Because Paul’s credibility was being challenged, he makes plain his weaknesses and identifies them as proof of God’s grace and God’s power (11:6, 12:9). What is fundamentally clear in his letters to the Corinthians is that Paul was never attempting to defend his own abilities, but rather always used his own weaknesses as evidence of God’s power.
Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Galatians are profound theological treatises that deserve much hermeneutical care. However, within the complex theology are the same elements of the paradox that are found throughout the New Testament. Especially significant in these two letters are Paul’s repetitious affirmations of the new reality “in Christ,” (Romans 3:24,26; 6:11; 8:39; 12:5; 15:17; Gal. 2:4, 3:14,26). This emphasis on our connection to Christ makes personal the paradox of the cross. Paul writes specifically on the nature of suffering and encourages Roman Christians to endure in Romans 5:3-5. And, as in Corinthians, Paul writes extensively on the eschatological implications of the resurrection in Romans 8:18-39. Particularly powerful are Paul’s words on suffering in the present in comparison to the glory to come (8:18). Yet still more writing on the topic of suffering can be found in the book of Hebrews.
The recipients of the letter Hebrews were Christians who encountered persecution and were falling away from the gospel. Therefore, the topics of suffering, perseverance, and hope are central to this book. The overarching message of Hebrews is to endure suffering in the same way as Jesus. The author even goes as far to claim that Jesus was made “perfect through suffering,” a phrase that is definitely compatible with Paul’s paradox (Heb. 2:10). By pointing to Jesus as the perfect example of suffering, the author makes the bold assertion that even God suffers (2:9,10,18; 5:8,9). However, like the previously discussed books, the author of Hebrews understands that Jesus’ suffering was not the final word but instead the resurrection and vindication of God’s work in Christ. Looking to Jesus as the “pioneer and perfecter of our faith,” the author encourages Christians to look ahead toward the eschatology of God’s glory (12:1-4, 13:13-16).
Though the book of Revelation is not easily understood, it too proclaims a message of power in weakness based on the hope of the one “who is, and who was and who is to come,” (1:8). John writes these letters to seven different churches who are struggling with a variety of problems, including pagan worship, persecution, and complacency. Specifically, John encourages suffering Christians in Philadelphia to patiently endure their persecution and to hold fast to their crown (3:10-11). And to suffering Christians in Smyrna John proclaims the paradox of riches in poverty through suffering (2:9-10). In addition to addressing these problems through his esoteric symbolism, John also provides a great deal of hopeful eschatology not unlike that which may be found in Paul’s writings. In the final chapters of his letter John proclaims the victory of God (19-22). It is precisely upon this victory that John, like Paul, makes his claim for the paradox through the endurance of the saints (13:10, 14:12).
Although not every book of the New Testament has been discussed here, the claim for Paul’s theme of “power made perfect in weakness” is most certainly evident. As seen in the Gospels, Epistles, Hebrews and Revelation, God’s power is made perfect in the weakness of suffering. However, not only may it be discovered that God is a God of mysterious paradox, but it must also be understood that God has defeated death and sin through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is in this fact that the mysterious paradox of God’s power is given eternal significance and allows all who suffer in the name of God to hope in the realized eschatology of the Risen Christ.

A Short Story

“If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

CHAPTER I
Once upon a time there was a boy. He was a very normal boy who loved to do normal things like climb trees, ride his bicycle, and eat ice cream.

One summer day the boy came upon a talking tree not far from his home.
The tree spoke up as the boy passed. “Would you like to see my magic trick?”
The boy replied, “Sure!”
“Ok, just watch!” The boy stood and waited but nothing happened.
“I’m waiting…” sighed the boy. But the tree was silent. So the boy left.

In the autumn the boy returned to the talking tree that was now dwindling. The tree recognized the boy. “I thought you had left! Do you still want to see my magic trick?”
The boy was excited. “Yes, please!”
“Alright,” said the tree, “just watch.” The boy stood and waited but nothing happened. So he left.

The boy returned in the winter and the tree looked ugly. The boy wondered if it was dead. The tree said nothing.

In the spring the boy returned to the tree had been and he noticed it had new leaves and buds on the tree. Still the tree said nothing so the boy left.

When the boy returned in the summer he found the giant, green tree flourishing. Suddenly the tree spoke. “It’s you again! So what did you think of my magic trick?”
The boy replied, “I didn’t see it.”
So the tree graciously offered, “Would you like me to show you again?” The boy eagerly nodded. “Ok, just watch!” said the tree.
The boy waited and watched but nothing happened. Finally the boy said to himself, “This is silly. I’m too old for magic anyway.” So he left and did not return.

CHAPTER II
As the boy grew older he changed. He saw many trees but they were all the same. And none of them could talk or do magic tricks.
Then one day the boy moved away and became a man. He became less interested in nature and certainly never thought about magic anymore. He was very busy working and taking care of things.

Over the years he became very successful and had lots and lots of things. But despite his success he felt empty.
So the man worked harder and became busier and had many things to take care of. He became the most successful man at work, but he still felt empty and sad.

At the age of fifty the man took all of his many things and moved back to the town where he had grown up. It was winter.



CHAPTER III
One day when he was home he went for a walk. He saw the old tree that had spoken to him many years ago. It looked ugly and bare. He thought about the mean joke that the tree had played on him when he was a boy.
“Magic trick!” he sneered. His eyes swelled with tears and he kicked the fat, stale trunk of the tree.

Months passed and the man was lonely. Almost daily he took walks past the talking tree. As spring blossomed he noticed the ugly, bare tree slowly budding and gaining color. Watching the tree change made him happy.

When summer came the tree had become vibrant and green and the man walked past the tree every day noticing its life and color. Somehow the tree’s life inspired the man.

CHAPTER IV
On a warm August evening the man sat near the tree and watched the sun set. Suddenly the tree spoke. “Excuse me, man, would you like to see my magic trick?”

Feelings of betrayal flooded the man’s memory and he immediately responded to the tree.
“What magic trick! You don’t have any magic! You tried this one on me thirty years ago!”
The tree then recognized the boy from long ago.
“It’s you!” exclaimed the tree.
“Yeah it’s me, and you already got me with your stupid magic joke. So, no, I don’t want to see your magic trick!”
The tree conceded, “Alright. I can’t make you see my magic trick.”

There was a long, anxious pause.

Finally the man broke the silence. “I don’t care about your stupid magic trick. But… There is something I'd like to know. I would like to know how you change… how you go from this big, beautiful tree in summer to an ugly, bare tree in the winter and then back to a big, beautiful tree again.”

It was quiet and the man had his back to the tree.

When he turned around the tree was smiling.
“You saw my magic trick!” it shouted. “My magic trick is changing! My trick is surviving the winter and re-blossoming in the spring and flourishing in the summer.”

The baffled man inquired, “If you can do magic then why don’t you just stay like this the whole year round?”
“Oh I see,” said the tree, “You think that if I have the magic to change then I should use the magic to remain this way the entire year.”
“Yes. You certainly look the best in summer.”
“Well,” the tree began, “It doesn’t work that way. I can’t stay like this on my own. I don’t have the magic.”
“What? But you said you – Then who does?” the man squawked.

“The wind.” answered the tree.
“The wind?”
“Yes. The wind. The magic is in the wind. You see, in the autumn I give my leaves away. If I try to keep them I will die. So I surrender my leaves to the wind and the wind gives them away to the ground and the birds and to anyone who wants them.”

“But don’t you get cold in the winter?” he wondered.
“Yes. The winters are extremely hard and I suffer much. But if I kept my leaves in the winter I would surely die. Surrendering my leaves to the wind is my only chance to live.”
“Don’t you get scared?” the man inquired.
“Yes, but I trust the magic in the wind.”

There was another pause and the man paced back and forth a few times before asking, “So how do you change from winter to spring to summer if you give away all your leaves?”
“After I have suffered the winter,” the tree explained, “the wind brings new seeds in the spring and I begin to grow.”
“Where do the new seeds come from?”
“I don’t know. It’s magic. The wind brings new life.”

The man slowly sat down and thought about what the tree had said. There was a long silence.

Then the sound of a light, August breeze was born in the distance. Slowly the breeze swelled into a significant gale and swept passed the man from behind. At that moment the tree let go of some of its leaves and they floated through the air passed the man. The man noticed the leaves gliding gently passed him in possession of the wind.

Without warning the man’s hat blew away and joined the leaves in their unknown trajectory. At first the man’s instinct was to chase his hat. But after a few hopeless steps he stopped. Turning to the tree he whined, “That was my hat!”
The tree replied, “Those were my leaves.”



CHAPTER V
The man meandered home and grumbled to a non-existent companion. He hated not having his hat.
In the distance a woman was walking toward the man. As she approached, the man noticed something in her hands.
“My hat!” he shouted. He rushed toward the woman. The man ambitiously returned the hat to his bald head. He was so preoccupied with his hat that he had not yet made eye contact with the woman. When he did he was stunned. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“I was out walking and the wind blew this hat right to me. So, I decided to go looking for its mate.”
“Oh,” said the man, “thank you. My name is Robert.”
“I’m Caroline, pleased to meet you.” she replied. The two began to talk and they found many things agreeable. They walked along together and the man enjoyed her company.

While they walked the man thought about what the tree had said. About the magic in the wind. And about the new seeds in the spring.

Without warning a gust of wind stole the man’s hat and carried it away again. The woman began to run after it but the man quickly cried “Stop! It’s OK.”

He turned around and stared at the tree in the distance. A gentle breeze swayed the tree and it stared majestically back at the man. He remembered the tree’s words: “I surrender my leaves to the wind. If I keep them I’ll die. It’s my only chance to live.”

A smile came over the man’s weathered face and he turned to the woman. Gently he took her hand and said, “Want to see a magic trick?”

CHAPTER VI
As the man and woman approached the magnificent tree the man looked up into the face of its beautiful presence and began, “Hello, old friend. This is Caroline…”





The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly…

- Psalm 104:16

Quote from St. Bonaventure

Ask grace, not learning; desire, not understanding; groanings of prayer, not industry in study; the Spouse, not the master; God, not man; obscurity, not clarity.
- St. Bonaventure