The Cost of Worry

My first quarter of worker retraining officially ended today.

I got to school a little before 9:00, and a few minutes later, I was in the library working on my final project for my graphic design class, which was due at 1:30. As the library has an earlier version of InDesign than the classroom, I could only do part of it in the library. Fortunately, the classroom had extra lab hours today, starting at 11:00. Unfortunately, I had a math final at 11:30. I went to the graphic design classroom at 11:00 to get at least something done with my project. The lab tech wasn't there and the room was locked. After waiting about 20 minutes, I finally had to go in order to get to my math final on time.

So with no progress made on the project since leaving the library, I took my math test. It was taking longer than I was hoping for it to take, and the longer it took, the more worried I got. Suddenly, Luke 12:25 popped into my head (I love how God does that!):

"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?"

The irony of it all! Here I was wanting more time to do my graphic design project, and worrying that my math final would take too long! I was constantly glancing at my watch (I finally had to take it off and put it on the table face-down), and the more I worried, the harder it was to think, and the more worried I got as a result. It's a vicious cycle. I wonder how long my math test would have taken if I hadn't been worried in the first place.

When I finally finished my test, I rushed back to the graphic design classroom, and (thankfully) the room was open by that point. I had about 20 minutes to finish my project and get it printed. I was getting to the panic stage. Needless to say, I got the project in, but it was not in color as it was supposed to be (no time to print it on the right printer). When I handed it to my teacher, I told him I had come at 11:00, and the lab tech wasn't there. He apologized for that, and he later told me that he would look at the color version on the computer (we also turned in a soft copy over the server). Knock on wood, thanks to the lab tech's mistake that was out of my control, I won't be docked for turning it in a few minutes late and in black and white. But I wonder if I would have been able to get it in sooner, had I let go of my worry and taken care of what I could control. It certainly did not add an hour, and my worry actually WASTED time.

Another lesson learned that had nothing (and everything) to do with math or graphic design.

Unload

1 Peter 5:7 has always been one of my favorite verses. Peter challenges the churches he is writing to to "cast all your anxieties upon Him, for He cares for you." I especially like the Phillips translation: "You can throw the whole weight of your anxiety on Him, for you are His personal concern." It amazes me that the Almighty God cares for me individually and would bend to take care of everything that worries me.

More recently, I have gotten to know the Louis Segond version (in French), which says, "...et déchargez-vous sur lui de tous vos soucis, car lui-même prend soin de vous." (literally "...and unload yourselves on Him of all your worries, for He Himself takes care of you.") When I first saw that translation, I took note of it because it's one of my favorite verses, but didn't think much of the differences in meaning between French and English. Then a few years later, I realized that the French verb décharger means "to unload", rather than "to cast" or "to throw" (although unloading does often involve a throwing action). I thought that was interesting. Then, later, I pointed that out to my friend Jerri, who shed new light on it. She commented that, coming from a farming background, the idea of unloading brought to her mind an image of driving a pickup with heavy machinery, then unloading it and being able to sail. I love that image. Then a couple weeks ago, I thought further about it, and it occurred to me that the word "unload" carries more connotations than I had realized. At least in English (not sure if this applies to French or not), the word "unload", when referring to worries, can also mean pouring your heart out to someone, telling them everything that's worrying you. In the past, I always interpreted the verse to mean that I should just pray to God and ask Him to take away my worries. I realized that it can also mean to unload my worries on Him, to pour out my heart. I know from experience that doing that with anyone that I know I can trust is a powerful thing.

Just now, I decided to look into the Greek version:

πασαν την μεριμναν υμων επιρριψαντες επ αυτον οτι αυτω μελει περι υμων.

Apparently, the word ἐπιρίψαντες (epiripsantes) only appears twice in the New Testament. The other occurrence is in Luke 19:35, when Jesus’ disciples threw their clothes on the donkey’s back so He could sit on it in order to enter Jerusalem. The way it is conjugated, the word means “having thrown.” But in a way, even in the verse in Luke, they took their cloaks off of themselves to put them on the donkey for Jesus. That’s also, to an extent, unloading.

I’m not sure if Peter had the idea of unloading in his mind when he wrote it, but I love that image, and I think it is more powerful than just asking God to take away our worries. Don’t get me wrong, He is happy to do that if we ask Him, but unloading ourselves onto Him, pouring out our hearts to Him, can be a powerful tool. Even just talking out what we are worried about, and listening for His response, can go a long way to helping us through the pain of whatever we’re going through. Whether or not we have another human around to share with, God is always there, and He loves it when we share our worries and concerns with Him. He can help put things in perspective, help us to lean on Him, and take away a lot of the worry.

Jesus Washes His Disciples' Feet

Today's Sunday school lesson...a paraphrase of John 13:

It was Passover time in Jerusalem, and the city was crowded. The Jews celebrated it every year to remember how God led the children of Israel out of slavery so many centuries earlier. Sunday was an exciting day. Riding on a donkey, Jesus led His twelve disciples into the city, and the crowd went wild! They were so excited to see the One who had been promised ever since the time of Adam and Eve. A lot had happened since then, and Israel had lived as a Kingdom for a while, but then the nation went back into slavery. The first time, they were slaves in Egypt to the southwest. The second time, they were slaves in Babylon and Assyria to the east. God delivered them from that slavery as well, but they were never the same. Before they knew it, a new kingdom called Rome took over, and their Emperor Caesar was not the nicest guy to be around. Herod, the governor he had appointed, was also pretty bad. (Herod’s dad had actually tried to have Jesus killed when Jesus was a baby!) Not only that, but the Jewish Priests and teachers had looked at the Law that God gave Moses, and they had added a bunch of extra laws, which got harder and harder to keep.

For centuries, the prophets had told Israel that a Messiah would come and deliver them from their bondage once and for all. So now, Sunday was the first day of the week of Passover. Just as the prophets had said, Jesus had finally come, and the people could hardly contain their joy! They laid down coats and palm branches and shouted, “Hosanna! Save us! Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord!”Some of these people had seen Jesus raise His friend Lazarus from the dead a few days earlier, and they were pumped!

The next few days, Jesus taught the crowds and His disciples a lot, and He even did a bunch of miracles for them. When Thursday rolled around, the time had come for the annual Passover Feast. This was to remember the last meal the Israelites ate before leaving Egypt long ago. Jesus sent Peter and John to a certain house in Jerusalem to set up the upstairs room and prepare the food for the feast. But there was something important they didn’t do. There was nobody to wash their feet.

Back in Bible times, they had no cars, no minivans, not even paved roads. People got around by walking on the dirty, dusty roads, wearing only sandals. Some people had horses, camels and other animals that they used to carry things and to ride on. If you’ve ever walked behind a horse, you know you have to watch your step. Not only that, but when it rained, the dirt on the roads turned to goopy mud. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t keep their feet clean.

Washing people’s feet was very important when they came into a building…but it was a really dirty job, and nobody wanted to do it! So, the servants would wash people’s feet.

When the feast was all ready, Jesus and the rest of His disciples arrived at the house and got ready to eat. But there was an important thing that needed to happen first. Where was the servant that was supposed to wash their feet? Oops! None of them wanted to do such an awful dirty job right before eating!

So the disciples were gathered around the table, and Jesus stood up. He took off His outer robe and wrapped a towel around His waist. Then He picked up a basin full of water and knelt down in front of one of the disciples, and He started to wash his feet! The promised Messiah, who they knew was God in human form, their leader, friend and teacher, was doing the icky, smelly job that only the lowest of the low were supposed to do! These hands had created their feet in the first place! Once the first disciple’s feet were clean, Jesus dried them with the towel and went on to the next disciple. Peter watched as Jesus made His way around the table, washing the gunk off the disciples’ feet, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Finally, when Jesus got to Peter, he had had enough. He decided to put his foot down, and he blurted out, “Lord, are you really gonna wash my feet?”

Jesus answered, “You don’t understand what I’m doing yet, but you’ll understand it later.”

Peter said, “Are you kidding? You will never wash my feet!”

“If I don’t wash you,” Jesus said, “you have no part with me.”

“OK,” said Peter. “In that case, wash my hands and head too!”

Jesus then reminded Peter that he didn’t need a bath; he just needed his feet washed.

After Jesus finished washing 24 filthy feet, He sat back down and asked them if they had figured out why He did that. When nobody answered, He went on. “You say that I’m your teacher and your Master. You’re right. I’m your teacher and your Master, and I’ve just washed your feet. You need to do that for each other. I did it to set an example for what you need to do. The truth is that no servant is greater than his master, and the messenger isn’t greater than the person who sent him. Now you know. You will be blessed if you do it.”

Today, we don’t usually need to wash each other’s feet. But there are a bunch of other things we can do to serve others. Something that other people don’t want to do, but needs to be done. Can you think of anything?

Ranger's Apprentice: The Ruins of Gorlan

A couple weeks ago, I was on Facebook and saw an ad that said that if I "Liked" the page for the Ranger's Apprentice series, I could download the first ten chapters of book one, The Ruins of Gorlan. Since I enjoy books of that sort, I decided to go for it. The free download, as was their intention, hooked me, and over $40 later, I am now a proud owner of the first six books. :-)

Book one begins with the preparations of Morgarath, the evil Lord of the Mountains of Rain and Night and former baron of the fief of Gorlan in the kingdom of Araluen. Fifteen years earlier, he was driven out of his fief in a sound defeat, and he has been lying in wait, preparing his army of Wargals, a sort of humanoid creature with features of dogs and bears, to attack and make another attempt at conquering the Kingdom. Also on his side are the Kalkara, huge hulking animals like bears with ape-like features.

Meanwhile, in the fief of Redmont, a group of orphans lives in the ward of the castle of Baron Arald. When they turn 15, they are eligible to apply for apprenticeship to varying Crafts, or occupations, that are each very important in their own way to the running of the fief and the kingdom. Young Will, the smallest of the eligible orphans for this year, has always dreamed of joining battleschool and becoming a brave Knight like his father, whom he never knew but pictures as a valiant knight who died gloriously in battle shortly before Will was born, and was instrumental in Morgarath's defeat. Unfortunately for Will, his small size is against him, and Battlemaster Sir Rodney turns him down. However, his agility and ability to hide, sneak and climb catch the attention of the mysterious Ranger Halt. The Rangers of Araluen play a vital role in the running of the kingdom. Each Ranger is assigned to a fief, and he must protect the fief, scout out threats, and remain unseen. The previous defeat of Morgarath was due in large part to a critical tip from a Ranger who went ahead of the army and alerted them to the location of the enemies. Due to the secretive nature of the job, the Rangers are a mysterious bunch.

Over the next few months, Halt begins to teach Will the skills he will need as a Ranger in the coming war with Morgarath, especially developing a keen sense of observation, as well as knife throwing and archery. Will Will be up to the task before him, which is more daunting than he realizes?

***

This book is masterfully written. Author John Flanagan does an amazing job of keeping the reader anxious for more, while crafting a true work of art. He brilliantly weaves danger, intrigue and humor. Will and his fellow wardmates each encounter unexpected challenges, and they learn the power of teamwork as well as developing their talents. Horace, another orphan of Will's age, encounters a trio of ruthless bullies in battleschool, and must deal with the constant torment that they cause him. Will shows great promise in his skill as a Ranger. Horace discovers his natural talent for swordplay. Both boys find they must work together at times to overcome incredible odds. As for humor, I love how Baron Arald loves to crack jokes that only he fully appreciates. The Ranger Gilan, who we meet later in the book, has a clearly mischievous side, though he is a masterful Ranger. Even Halt, who hardly ever smiles, proves to be hilarious at times, although his humor is often more subtle. Another thing I appreciate about this book is Will's honesty. When confronted with a past misdeed, he owns up to it and agrees that it was wrong. At another time, he is involved in a victory, and the stories of his part in the battle are blown way out of proportion among the villagers. This bothers him because he wasn't nearly as heroic as they make him out to be (although he did do a very courageous thing), and he is very concerned that the other people involved don't get much credit. Oh, and did I mention that Halt, Will and Gilan enjoy coffee? :-)

The only negative bit I saw was that some of the names seemed a bit cliché. With a name like Morgarath, how can he help but be the villain? His name reminded me of the land of Mordor in Lord of the Rings (not to mention that in those books, Frodo was stabbed with a morgul blade). It also very closely resembles Mulgarath, the archvillain in The Spiderwick Chronicles (which I haven't read, but I enjoyed the movie). The Wargals, which even have dog-like features, reminded me of the Wargs in Lord of the Rings. Come to think of it, their name is also similar to the Urgals of The Inheritance Cycle, who play a similar role. Also, the Rangers are similar to what Aragorn and his kinfolk do in Lord of the Rings, although Flanagan says that he based that element more on the Texas Rangers (not the baseball team). Interestingly, his publisher made him change the name of the Kingdom of Arathon because it sounded too much like Aragorn. (The series was originally called The Arathon Rangers.) So it became Araluen instead.

Oh, and there is a little bit of mild language.

Overall, The Ruins of Gorlan is an amazing book, and I can't wait to read book 2. I can tell I'm going to enjoy this series.

(I got the picture from the downloads page on the series' website.)

Update: I just watched some videos from the author, and realized that he puts the stress of Morgarath's name on the second syllable, rather than the first. That makes it sound much less cliché.

Mixed Feelings

Last night, I checked my e-mail "one last time" before going to bed and found some significant news. President Obama announced that a small group of Americans had found and killed Osama bin Laden, and they had positively identified his body via DNA tests.

It was 1993 the first time I remember hearing about Bin Laden. A bomb went off in the parking garage below the World Trade Center. Bin Laden took credit, and he was attempting to take the building down by destroying its base. Thankfully, that attempt failed, and the damage was repaired.

The next time I remember hearing of him was that fateful day in 2001. I woke up the morning of September 11, and I was headed toward the bathroom to start getting ready for work. My mom stopped me at the door of my room, and she was visibly shaken. She told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Not being fully awake, my first thought was, "Who cares?" As it sank in, I started to realize that I cared. We hurried into the living room and watched in horror as the news reports showed a huge plume of fire and smoke billowing out of the World Trade Center. Further horror ensued as we watched a plane slam into the second building. At that point, I had to start getting ready for work, as I wanted to be sure to arrive on time. I took a small portable radio into the bathroom while I was getting ready, and I prayed desperately. It was then that I heard on the radio that a third plane had slammed into the Pentagon. I prayed even more desperately, and later heard that a fourth plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, thanks to the heroic efforts of some passengers who had tackled the hijackers and prevented them from reaching their target. Walking to work, I glanced at the newsstands and saw a headline about whales...suddenly such a trivial subject. By lunch time, the papers had been replaced with special editions proclaiming, "ATTACKED!"

My job at the time was on the 9th floor of a Seattle highrise. At the time, nobody knew where the terrorists' next target would be, and early in the day, our managers told us we could go home if we wanted. I opted to stay, as the worst that could happen was that a plane would slam into our building, I would be killed, and then go to heaven, never to suffer again. That didn't seem to me such a bad option. Thankfully, there were no more attacks, but one thing I will never forget is the news reports of people dancing in the streets in the Middle East, celebrating the fact that America had been attacked and thousands had been killed. It hurt deeply to see their sick glee.

I never dreamed that nearly ten years later, the same celebrating over a death would be taking place in America. At long last, the perpetrator of these attacks has been caught and brought to eternal justice. Part of me is thankful that Bin Laden will no longer be inflicting his fierce hatred on America. I'm grateful to our brave troops for going in and doing the job that needed to be done, carefully avoiding the killing of innocent lives, and getting the bad guys. This is a great victory, and for that I'm glad. However, it saddens me to see Americans gleefully celebrating a man's death. I don't care who he was or what he did, celebrating any death is a sin. Proverbs 24:17-20 states:

Do not gloat when your enemy falls;

when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice,

or the LORD will see and disapprove

and turn his wrath away from them.

Do not fret because of evildoers

or be envious of the wicked,

for the evildoer has no future hope,

and the lamp of the wicked will be snuffed out.

It makes me incredibly sad to think that a man who had so much potential could go so wrong. He was definitely an evildoer and an enemy, but Jesus gave His life for Osama bin Laden just as much as He did it for anyone else. Whatever evil Bin Laden did, it is truly a tragedy that he now has to pay with an eternity of fire and torment. It is without a doubt what he deserves, but that is a punishment I would not wish on my worst enemy, and it is what all of us deserve.

I think about Bin Laden's sympathizers dancing in the streets celebrating the attack on America, and I am ashamed to think that we would do the same thing when Bin Laden is killed. Yes, victory is a cause for celebration, but death is not.

On the other hand, just yesterday our pastor preached on King David's friends later in life. One of those friends was General Joab. David's reign was threatened by a bitter enemy named Absalom, who was determined to overthrow the King and take over. One catch: Absalom was David's son. David commanded Joab to crush the rebellion but to spare the life of his son. However, when Absalom's hair got caught in a tree and Joab was nearby, Joab took that opportunity to put an end to the threat to the King's life. When David heard the news that his son was dead, he was heartbroken. He mourned so deeply that his army slunk away as if they had suffered a defeat rather than a great victory. Joab then had to go to the King and remind him that the army had saved his life. While David didn't celebrate his son's death, he did realize the need to encourage the army and his subjects, and he returned to his duties.

Another thing that just came to mind was that after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on dry land, and then the sea collapsed on the Egyptian army, the Israelites sang a song of praise to God for delivering them from the oppressive Pharaoh. They brought out their tambourines and danced in celebration.

All that to say, I have mixed feelings about Bin Laden's death. This is a great victory, and I think we should be thankful for God's protection and that He allowed us to get the bad guy. I believe that this action saved thousands of lives, and the soldiers who carried out the attack on his compound did a truly heroic thing. But the fact that he died without a Savior or a hope of salvation is a great tragedy.

Maybe the thing we should be celebrating is not his death, but the fact that the lives of who-knows-how-many people that would otherwise have been killed by his evil have been saved.

Finally, I will say something that may sound strange at first. I am thankful for Osama bin Laden. I know he was an evil man. He was a perpetrator of genocide, and he probably would have made Hitler proud. But he did what very few people have done in recent American history. His deed on September 11 united America. Democrats and Republicans and people of all religions came together in a way that I have only seen once to march behind a common purpose, and for once, we all agreed on something. It was a beautiful thing. For that, I thank Bin Laden. May we continue in that spirit of unity.

Annika

For eleven long years, I was the youngest of my cousins. As a child, this bothered me somewhat, as I looked up to everyone, and had nobody smaller or younger than me. So it was with some excitement that I learned in 1988 that I was going to have a new cousin. We lived in the Philippines at the time, and my aunt called us with the news . She also mentioned that they were coming to the other side of the world to visit us for Christmas. 1988 was a very exciting year.

So it was that my aunt and uncle came to visit us in December. By that time, the baby (I was hoping for a boy) was making his or her presence known, and I remember my aunt sitting on the couch and letting me feel her stomach to feel the baby kicking. While they were visiting, we took them around to the presidential palace and other touristy places, and we took them out to see the beaches and islands, riding bangkas (rowboats with wooden pontoons) and even doing some snorkeling. The Philippines has some amazing coral reefs, and snorkeling is an absolute must while visiting. That month was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my childhood.

But we had no way of knowing about the horrible year that was about to begin.

In March of 1989, our church had a retreat during Holy Week, a week full of traditions and superstition in the Philippines, in which people get their palm branches blessed and put them on their doors to ward off evil spirits. On Good Friday, many people beat themselves mercilessly with whips laced with shards of glass, and others are literally crucified, all in an effort to be forgiven for their sins (completely missing the point of Jesus' sacrifice). Most Philippine Catholics believe that Jesus is literally dead on Black Saturday, the next day, and they don't dare do anything for fear that if anything bad happens, Jesus won't be there to help them. It was that day that the church retreat ended and they carpooled back to church to return home. On the trip home, both tires on one side of one of the vehicles blew, causing it to roll. Most of the passengers were women and children, and it did not have seatbelts. Those who didn't hold on were thrown, and everyone was taken to the nearest hospital, which was on a skeleton crew already because some of the doctors and nurses didn't dare report to work because of Black Saturday. My parents, who had not attended the retreat, hurried to the hospital to be with them, and I went to a friend's house. It was a very anxious time waiting by the telephone to hear news. One of the passengers was pregnant, and she was the main priority at the hospital. I will never forget the pain I felt when our friend hung up the phone and told me, "Cynthia is with the Lord." Neither she nor the baby made it. I still get a lump in my throat thinking about it 22 years later. Fortunately, all the others in the accident recovered.

June 1 (May 31 in the US), we got word that my beloved paternal grandma had lost her battle with multiple myeloma. That was even harder to take. November 6, my maternal grandma, who I knew more and treasured deeply, lost her battle with breast cancer. We also lost another woman from our church that year, also from cancer. Another close friend from our church passed away the following year from a heart attack.

But through the deep pain, God sent two shafts of light at the perfect time, when we needed them most. Annika was born on April 20. Though we were far away, my new cousin - my first younger cousin ever - was truly a Godsend. We celebrated her arrival, and her picture was a bright spot in our house. The picture of my grandma, who was struggling with breast cancer, holding her brand new baby granddaughter was truly a treasure. December 13 brought another treasure in the form of my wonderful cousin Darcy. If it weren't for Annika and Darcy, and my dependence on God, I don't know how I would have coped with all the loss of 1989.

We returned to the US in 1991, just in time to visit my paternal grandpa for the last time before he passed away. Shortly after that visit in California, we continued on to Seattle, where we were greeted by my aunt, who was holding her young daughter Annika. So it was that I finally got to meet my beloved cousin at SeaTac Airport. Over the next week, I got my first taste of babysitting, and I got to know Annika better. She was somewhat strong-willed (my maternal grandpa predicted that she would be a general when she grew up), but she was, and remains, truly precious. I got to meet Darcy later that week, when their family visited, and an 18-month-old Darcy looked up at me like I was some weird stranger.

It has been fun watching Annika grow. One particularly memorable time, my great-aunt and great-uncle in Montana celebrated their 50th anniversary. We had a talent show, and at one point the younger kids sang a song. They all came up to the front in no particular order. As the emcee introduced them, those of us in the audience watched in amusement as Annika moved her cousins and second-cousins around. Pretty soon, everyone was arranged in order of height, much to the emcee's surprise.

In 1993, Andrèa joined the family, and she is another huge blessing. Since then, Annika has been a wonderful big sister as well (to Andrèa, that is). :-)

It seems hard to believe that the time has flown so fast, and today marks Annika's 22nd birthday. I have watched her graduate from high school, and later from Seattle Pacific University with a degree in nursing. I am incredibly proud of my cousin, now officially an RN. She came at a time when she was desperately needed, and she has blossomed into an amazing person that I truly admire.

Jesus Christ Superstar

Please note: At this point, I have only seen the 2000 movie adaptation. Any comments are based on that production, and other productions may be different.

For years, I have been hearing mixed reviews on Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical Jesus Christ Superstar - everything from amazing to blasphemous (most people weighing in on the latter). As I am not generally one to formulate an opinion on something based only on hearsay (After all, the Bible says to "test the spirits"), I have not had an opinion on the subject. After all, I had never seen or heard it, aside from a few of the songs.

What I had heard: The musical was told from Judas' perspective, it was blasphemous (or amazing, depending on who I asked), Mary Magdalene was an important character, it spanned Jesus' last week leading up to the crucifixion, and what I could get from the songs I had heard (mainly I Don't Know How to Love Him, Gethsemane and Superstar).

First of all, like it or not, Jesus Christ Superstar was very important in the history of musicals. It was wildly popular in its time (and is still somewhat popular), and it was thanks in large part to this musical that Andrew Lloyd Webber rose to popularity, 15 years before The Phantom of the Opera made him even more popular. It was also at the London premiere of Jesus Christ Superstar in 1971 that the Frenchman Alain Boublil got the idea of writing a rock opera, thus beginning his collaboration with Claude-Michel Schönberg. The result was La Révolution Française (1973) a major landmark in the birth of French musicals. They would later go on to write several more hit musicals, the most popular of which were Les Misérables (1980 in French, 1985 in English) and Miss Saigon (1989).

As for the songs I had heard, I had mixed feelings. Musically, they have catchy tunes, and they capture many emotions. Of course, hearing the songs out of context only gives you part of the impact of the song, and sometimes leads to misunderstandings.

I knew "I Don't Know How to Love Him" was sung by Mary, and I didn't entirely know what to make of it. Mary seems to love Jesus, but is confused somehow (obviously, from the title of the song). I don't know that I really spent much time thinking about it before seeing the play, but it was an easily recognizable song.

"Gethsemane" bothered me a bit. It is obviously based on Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, and it captures His pain and inner turmoil as He wrestled with the notion of dying, and not wanting to. What bothered me was that it ended with the resolution "All right, I'll die. Just watch me die. See how I die." It sounds to me like a belligerent child deciding to obey his parents just to show them how wrong they are, all the while planning to tell them, "I told you so!" after it's all over. While the real Jesus didn't want to die, there was no belligerence involved, and He went willingly to save mankind, not because He had something to prove.

"Superstar" really bothered me. It seems to mock Jesus for coming 2000 years ago when there was "no mass-communication." I did not appreciate the question repeated throughout the song: "Jesus Christ Superstar, do You think You're who they say You are?" That tells me that the singers didn't believe that He was truly the Messiah.

On a recommendation from a friend who loves the 2000 version especially, I watched it this past Sunday. I have mixed feelings about it, and they may change somewhat as I ponder it further, but these are my thoughts 2 days later.

In the 2000 movie, Judas was played by Jérôme Pradon, one of my favorite singers/actors. Some of my favorite songs from musicals have been from his characters in Boublil & Schönberg's Martin Guerre (in which he played Guillaume) and Värttinä & A.R. Rahman's Lord of the Rings (Aragorn). I was surprised, however, with his performance as Judas. His acting and facial expressions were great, but the powerful, loud singing required of the character seemed to be a bit much for him at times. This is the first time I have been unimpressed with his singing, as he seemed to be straining his voice for most of the show.

It's interesting how, in some ways, the musical seems to turn the biblical story of Jesus' last week on its head. If this musical is to be believed, Judas betrayed Christ because he didn't believe that Jesus was the promised Messiah, which basically implies that Judas didn't believe much of what Jesus taught. He considered Him a misguided friend, who he felt the necessity to advise on repeated occasions. (I'm pretty sure the real Judas knew and understood that Jesus was truly the Messiah.) The musical shows Judas' arrogance in that he seems to see himself as the teacher, not the disciple. Up until the Last Supper, Jesus seems to tolerate Judas' constant nagging, aside from defending Mary several times when Judas criticizes Jesus' friendship with her, including the time she pours oil on Him.

As for Mary, she is a confused person in this musical. She has found Jesus, and turned from her past ways, but finds herself attracted to Him. I think this is a large part of where the charges of blasphemy come from, as she sees Jesus as more than a friend. She is confused because, as a former prostitute, she seems to understand that it's wrong to lie with Him, but that's the way she's known to express her love in the past. She expresses her confused feelings in the song "I Don't Know How to Love Him," which she sings (sometimes belting) while Jesus is sleeping and she's in the same room. In context, the song made more sense to me. One thing that surprised me somewhat was Judas' sudden appearance at the end of the song, when Mary is sitting next to a sleeping Jesus. Judas seems to misunderstand what he sees, takes Jesus for a hypocrite and adulterer, and that seems to be the final straw that leads him to go to the authorities and betray Jesus. I can see where this scene in particular could be open to interpretation and taken in more blasphemous directions than the 2000 movie does.

As the story builds, Judas becomes more and more conflicted, as he is increasingly disillusioned with Jesus, yet reluctant to turn in a friend to the authorities. The conflict seems to explode at the Last Supper when Jesus announces that Peter will deny Him and Judas will betray Him. This scene particularly bothered me, as it practically turns into a brawl, Jesus angrily shouting at Peter for the sin he will commit, and then Jesus and Judas going into a shouting match in which neither is very mature and Jesus seems to be resigned to committing suicide by angrily convincing Judas to go to the authorities. (In the Bible, Jesus only showed sadness at this point, not anger. While He did tell Judas to go do what he had to, He didn't have to spend five minutes trying to convince Judas to go.)

In context, the song "Gethsemane" bothered me just as much as it did out of context. It does a good job of capturing Jesus' pain and inner turmoil, but seems to end on a belligerent and childish note that is not present in the biblical account.

As in the biblical account, Judas feels remorse for betraying Jesus, and he tries to return the money the authorities gave him for his betrayal. Then, in despair, he hangs himself. Unlike in the biblical account, Judas' remorse is not because he realizes that he's sinned; it's because he realizes that Jesus' death will be pinned on him for all time and people won't understand that he did it with the best intentions.

Possibly the most accurately-portrayed character is Pilate (played brilliantly by Fred Johanson). You can tell he is conflicted and confused. He thinks Jesus is crazy, but he can't see any reason to have Him crucified. In an effort to satisfy the angry crowds, he has Jesus whipped 39 times. He sends Him to Herod, who, frustrated that Jesus won't talk, tells Jesus to "get out." Finally, when the crowd pressures Pilate to have Jesus crucified (or he'll incite a riot and be demoted), Pilate washes his hands of the whole affair and gives into the crowd's demands.

As Jesus is carrying the cross up the hill, Judas reappears (I thought he died?) and sings "Superstar." In context, the song makes much more sense, but left me somewhat bewildered. The style of the song is very upbeat, almost celebratory. (It is a rock opera, after all.) Somewhat odd, considering that Jesus is walking to His death. The lyrics seem to mock Jesus because, well, that's what was happening at the time. But to have Judas, who is dead at this point, leading the mockery seems especially strange. What I found even more disturbing was the angels joining in and openly mocking Jesus, agreeing with Judas that Jesus just might not be the Messiah, as the crowds suggested. While the Bible doesn't mention the angels at this point, it only ever talks about them glorifying God, not mocking Him. Perhaps these are supposed to be demons, who were originally angels? After all, the Bible states that Lucifer/Satan was known as the angel of light, and he often masquerades as such.

The musical ends with Jesus dead, His followers devastated and mourning. No mention of the Resurrection. I read somewhere that the musical is more about Jesus' humanity rather than His divinity, and I can see that.

Overall, Jesus Christ Superstar was not as blasphemous as I was expecting, based on comments I had heard from others, but it did have a lot of areas that were hardly respectful to the living Lord and Savior of mankind. It seems to convey that He was a great teacher, but he may have been somewhat misguided. He changed lives for the better, but he may or may not have been the Messiah. It doesn't seem to give a definitive answer to that question.

Glenn Carter did a great job as Jesus, although he seemed angrier than I would have liked (which seems to be written into the script, so I don't think that's his fault), and I could have done without hearing him go into falsetto several times. Renée Castle was an excellent choice for Mary, as her singing and acting conveyed well the conflicted woman, who became increasingly more sure of herself as the story progressed (even rebuking Peter for denying Christ toward the end). Fred Johanson was also great as Pilate. Frederick B. Owens was particularly memorable as Caiaphas. Not very many musicals include a strong bass, and his performance was brilliant. As I mentioned before, I was surprised to be disappointed with Jérôme Pradon's performance as Judas, as he has never disappointed me before, but his acting was great.

As I knew them best, "Gethsemane" and "I Don't Know How to Love Him" stood out as memorable songs, for good and bad. Another song that stood out for me was "Hosanna." I had heard that song a couple times before watching the movie, but didn't know it as well. However, it has a very catchy tune. Those three songs in particular show Andrew Lloyd Webber's brilliance in musical composition, and deserve their place in the classic songs that he wrote. I may not entirely agree with the message conveyed in all of them, but they have enjoyable and memorable tunes, and they capture well the emotions that the characters are feeling.

Due to the disrespectful nature of parts of the show, I can't recommend it for its message and fidelity to the source material, but it was better than I expected. The musicality of the whole thing is excellent, and for that, I do recommend it. However, to anyone watching it, I recommend taking it with a grain of salt and studying the Biblical account to find out what actually happened. In some ways, Jesus Christ Superstar is a semi-fictional story based on actual events, told from an unusual perspective.

One thing I would love to see someday is a hit musical based on the life of Christ that builds up, not to the crucifixion, but to the resurrection. So far, Andrew Lloyd Webber has brought us Jesus Christ Superstar, and Stephen Schwartz has brought us the much-more-respectful (usually) Godspell. Both are somewhat open to interpretation by the director (Godspell more than Jesus Christ Superstar), but neither necessarily includes the resurrection. Both end with Jesus dead (although some productions of Godspell have been able to add the resurrection quite effectively). While there is sometimes value to ending the story with Jesus' death - which highlights the enormity of the tragedy - it's like ending the story halfway through the climactic battle, before the turn of the tide that leads to the final triumphant victory.

Susan's Fate

*WARNING: If you have not read The Chronicles of Narnia, do not read on. SPOILER!*

Authors have a big task when constructing a novel or series of novels, and many show their brilliance in what they write and how they explain. In my opinion, one mark of a truly great author is what he leaves open to the imagination of the reader, rather than explaining.

Such is the fate of Susan Pevensie, one of the important characters of C.S. Lewis' The Chronicles of Narnia. Very few characters actually survive the series. We witness the deaths of the White Witch, Miraz, Caspian, the Lady of the Green Kirtle, even Aslan. We see Reepicheep go up the wave in his coracle to Aslan's Country. We hear about the death of Caspian's beloved Queen in a flashback. We see Prince Rabadash of Calormen transformed into a donkey, and he has to be transported to Tashbaan where he is transformed back into a man in the temple of his god Tash. He reforms and leads a peaceful reign, but we read that he eventually dies, and his people proceed to call him Rabadash the Ridiculous. Some characters die during the time between books. We don't know how, but for example, thousands of years have passed in Narnia between The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Prince Caspian. By virtue of the passage of time, we know that the Beavers, Tumnus and all the others have long since died by the time Prince Caspian starts. In The Last Battle, we see Ginger the Cat get overconfident, take one look at Tash, and shoot out of the stable like a bullet, unable to speak. Tash grabs Rishda Tarkaan and Shift and takes them away.

However, perhaps the most heartbreaking fate is that of Susan...and she is one of the few characters that actually survives.

After King Tirian pulls Rishda Tarkaan through the stable door in The Last Battle, Tirian finds himself in a beautiful paradise, and Rishda finds himself face-to-face with the reality that the evil god he has not believed but has pretended to worship all his life is very real and is not happy. Tirian turns to find before him nearly all of the Friends of Narnia that we have met throughout the series. Jill and Eustace, with whom he just fought the Last Battle, are there, along with Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Polly and Digory. Tirian is amazed to be before so many heroes from throughout Narnia's history, and he is mystified when he realizes that Queen Susan is not there. When he asks where she is, Peter explains that she is no longer a friend of Narnia. It turns out that she has decided that Narnia was child's play, and she doesn't understand how her siblings can still think it's real. In other words, she has contracted a serious case of adultitis. She is more concerned with the superficial trappings of being a woman and going to parties than she is with spending quality time with her loved ones and remembering the lessons she learned not so long ago.

As we read on, we find out that the Friends of Narnia have been trying to return. Peter and Edmund went to retrieve the rings that transported Polly and Digory to Narnia, and they were waiting at the train station for the others to arrive. The train rounded the bend too fast, crashing into the station and probably derailing, killing those on board and in the station. Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Polly and Digory suddenly found themselves in the New Narnia, and Eustace and Jill found themselves in the Old Narnia with a task to help King Tirian to defend their nation to the end. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that the Pevensies' parents are also on board the ill-fated train. They suddenly find themselves in a New London.

Beyond what is told above, we don't know what happened to Susan. When a child asked Lewis about it, he had this to say:

Dear Martin,

The books don't tell us what happened to Susan. She is left alive in this world at the end, having by then turned into a rather silly, conceited young woman. But there is plenty of time for her to mend, and perhaps she will get to Aslan's country in the end--in her own way. I think that whatever she had seen in Narnia she could (if she was the sort that wanted to) persuade herself, as she grew up, that it was "all nonsense".

Congratulations on your good marks. I wish I was good at Maths! Love to all,
Yours,
C.S. Lewis

Letters to Children, Letter of 22 January 1957

Think about it: Susan has just lost her ENTIRE family. Her nearest living relatives that we know of are her Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold, who have also lost a son. All three of her siblings, her parents, her cousin, even the respected Professor who took her in during the war, have all died in one train crash. If that isn't enough to shake a person to their senses, I don't know what is. I've lost family members, but only one at a time--and none as close as a sibling or parent. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose so much at once. Not to mention that she's only 21 at this point. She has her whole life ahead of her, and she has to live it without the ones who have been closest to her growing up.

Susan's fate is both heartbreaking and hopeful. As Lewis pointed out to young Martin, Susan has a chance to remember the lessons she learned from Aslan and let go of her selfish pride and adultitis. As Aslan pointed out in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, he has another name in this world. On January 22, 1952, Lewis explained in a letter to a child named Carrol that the word Aslan "is Turkish for lion ... And of course I meant the Lion of Judah." He likely expected Carrol to understand that the Lion of Judah is a name for Jesus in the Bible. Thus, Susan has a choice. She can continue to reject the hope that has been given to her in the form of Christ appearing to her in the form of a lion, or she can put her trust in Christ, who died to save her from her sin. (She saw this reenacted only a few years earlier as Aslan gave his life on the Stone Table to save Edmund from death, and then the Stone Table cracked and Aslan rose from the dead and defeated the White Witch).

Susan has a choice. Which did she choose? We'll never know, because she's a fictional character...but each of us has the same choice. We can choose to follow Christ and one day find ourselves in His presence, or we can reject Him and find ourselves in the presence of someone worse than Tash.

Rob Phillips

This has been a difficult week, as I lost a dear friend and brother in Christ early Tuesday morning (February 15, 2011). A heart attack hit, and suddenly he was gone, despite the best efforts of the doctors and nurses.

It all started when I joined Christian comedian Bob Smiley's online message board in approximately 2000. That was where I met Jerri Phillips, a wonderful Texan woman of God who I have grown to admire more and more over the years. She had a husband and two children that I heard about often.

Fast-forward to 2007. My friend Brian Green was getting married in Texas, and I was honored to be requested to come and be a groomsman. I decided to make a vacation of it and visited friends in Louisiana and Texas, as well as surprising Christian singer Clay Crosse by attending a concert in Baton Rouge (we've become good friends). After spending a few days in Louisiana with friends, I took the train to Dallas, where I was greeted by a very excited Jerri and her two children. Her husband Rob was at work, but I got to meet him when he got home that evening. Over the next few days, I got to know their family, and I gained even more of a respect and love for each of them. They took me around, and we generally had a great time. The kids especially are very artistic, and I also enjoyed my time doing artwork with them at their home. At one point, they took me to a restaurant they loved (I forget the name), and Rob introduced me to their cheese fries. Probably terribly fattening, but they were oh so good!

One thing that particularly impressed me about Rob was his thoughtfulness. About a month before Jerri's birthday one year, he sent out an e-mail to all of their friends and asked us to send birthday cards, as a special surprise for Jerri. He worked it out for us to send them to their neighbor so Jerri would not catch wind of the plan. Then on her birthday, she was flooded with cards from all over the country.

Tuesday morning of this week, I was on the bus, almost to work, and I checked my e-mail on my phone. I saw a message from Jerri explaining that Rob had had a massive heart attack shortly after midnight. I was immediately very concerned, and then a little confused when I saw in the next paragraph that there would be a celebration service. Then I reread the first paragraph and realized that it said "fatal massive heart attack." Then the bus arrived at work. Early in the day, I sent an e-mail to my manager explaining that I had lost a dear friend and may be a bit slower than normal doing my work, due to the shock. At lunch I called my friend Carmel, also a good friend of Rob and Jerri, to make sure she knew (I didn't feel I had the right to tell her what happened, as it needed to come from Jerri, but I recommended that she check her messages). Most of this week I have had to hold in the grief, or I would not get any work done. But this weekend I have had some time to process it. I don't, and probably never will, understand how or why God would choose to take a healthy 42-year-old man who had a family who needed him, and I can't fathom how it must feel for the family left behind. I know that I've shed lots of tears this week.

When looking through my pictures of my trip to Texas, I was disappointed not to find any of Rob, but I found a few of the rest of the family. (One of my favorites is at the top of this post.) Please keep Jerri, Anna and Robert in your prayers. I can't even begin to imagine their pain, but if it's been this tough for me, it's got to be much harder for them. I know that God will work even this out for good, but sometimes it's so hard to see the beauty to come through the difficult and strangling ugliness right now.

Update: Jerri reminded me that the restaurant with the cheese fries is called Snuffer's. If you're ever in the Fort Worth area, I highly recommend it.

Harriet Tubman

As February is Black History Month, I thought I'd feature some of the black heroes who have made our country what it is today. As I already did a post on Martin Luther King, Jr., I won't be doing another...but there are so many more amazing people that need to be remembered. I can guarantee I won't get to all of them this month, but I'll see how many we can do. (I also expect I'll be doing posts on Lincoln and Washington this month in honor of their birthdays.)

Harriet Tubman was born Araminta Ross (Minty for short) in March of 1822. During her childhood, she was hired out to several masters who beat and abused her. At one point, she was sent to a local dry-goods store to get some supplies. There, she met a slave who had left his master without permission. The other slave's master asked young Minty to help him restrain the slave, and when she refused, the angry slaveowner threw a 2-pound weight at the fleeing slave. It missed the target and instead hit Minty in the head, breaking her skull. She was returned to her master, who let her rest without medical care for two days and then sent her back out into the fields to work, still bleeding. Her injury would haunt her for the rest of her life. She suffered from headaches and seizures as a result. She also had many visions and dreams that she believed were revelations from God (and I don't doubt it), and may also have been related to her injury.

As a slave, she held onto her faith in God and to biblical promises of freedom. In 1840, her father was freed, and when she consulted a white lawyer, it was discovered that her mother should also have been freed...but her family's masters had ignored that bit in a former master's will, and Minty couldn't afford to challenge it in court.

In about 1844, Araminta Ross married a free black man named John Tubman, and soon after their marriage, she changed her first name to Harriet. This complicated matters as a free man married a slave. The couple began praying for Harriet's master, first that God would change his heart and free her, and when that didn't seem to be happening, that God would take her master out. A week later, her master died, and she regretted her prayer. Her master's widow started work on selling off the slaves, and Harriet decided that "there was one of two things I had a right to, liberty or death; if I could not have one, I would have the other." On September 17, 1849, she escaped with her brothers Harry and Ben, but her brothers began to have second thoughts about escape, and they returned, bringing her along.

She later escaped by herself, using the Underground Railroad. She traveled by night, using the North Star as her guide, and stayed with friendly people, many of them Quakers, who secretly helped many slaves to escape. She would later describe her arrival in Pennsylvania thus: "When I found I had crossed that line, I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything; the sun came like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in Heaven."

Harriet spent the next while helping to free members of her family, going back and forth between Pennsylvania and Maryland. Her efforts earned her the nickname Moses by abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison. As the North became more and more dangerous to escaped slaves due to the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, she began helping fleeing slaves to go further north to Canada. She especially worked on this during the winter months, when the nights were longer.

She had an intense faith that God would protect her, and she had several close calls when passing former masters...but she was a quick thinker and managed to hide in plain sight (at one point pretending to read a newspaper - since she was known to be illiterate, her former master didn't figure that was her). She would often use spirituals as coded messages.

She later worked with abolitionist John Brown, who called her General Tubman. Brown believed in a more violent method of freeing slaves, but they both had similar goals, and both looked to God for protection. Brown would later be caught and hanged for treason.

During the Civil War, Tubman urged President Lincoln to free the slaves in the South. Partway through the war, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, which Tubman saw that as a step in the right direction. She even had a strategic part in guiding a troop of Yankee soldiers in an assault on Southern plantations. During the war, her aid to the Northern army helped to free hundreds of slaves - and many of the freed men joined the Union Army.

After the war, she married a Civil War veteran named Nelson Davis in 1869 (her first husband had been killed several years earlier), and they adopted a girl named Gertie.

Later in life, Tubman worked alongside Susan B. Anthony and others in the fight for women's suffrage.

Around the turn of the century, she joined the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, and in 1903 she donated a parcel of land to the church to found a home for elderly folks. The Harriet Tubman Home for the Aged opened on June 23, 1908. Due to her childhood injury, she had to undergo brain surgery in the 1890s, and she became a patient in her own Home for the Aged in 1911. On March 10, 1913, she died of pneumonia, quoting her Savior Jesus to the people in the room: "I go to prepare a place for you." She was buried with full military honors.

---

Some quotes from Harriet Tubman:

"Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world."

"I freed a thousand slaves. I could have freed a thousand more if only they knew they were slaves."

"I grew up like a neglected weed - ignorant of liberty, having no experience in it."

"I was the conductor of the Underground Railroad for eight years, and I can say what most conductors can't say; I never ran my train off the track and I never lost a passenger."

"I would fight for my liberty as long as my strength lasted, and if the time came for me to go, the Lord would let them take me."

"Lord, I'm going to hold steady onto You and You've got to see me through."