Thank you for taking the time to read this post, especially when you know it’s likely to be filled with sadness and anger. I know this is uncomfortable, but I also know that you care about me. That’s why we’re friends. Thank you for your respect; I will strive to show the same to you.
It’s easy to rant against Trump supporters in the abstract, but not against you, because I know you. I know you’re not racist, or sexist, or homophobic. I know you respect and care for me and others like me. And that’s why, as a woman, as a Millennial, as a writer, and as your friend, I have to let you know how your vote feels, and more importantly, how it functions, to me. Continue reading →
Wayne Allyn Root, a businessman and political commentator among other things, wrote a column in which he argues that Christians are “missing the boat” on Donald Trump and that they should not only vote for him, but that doing anything else is denying the messages that God is sending us. I had enough thoughts on this that I wanted to write my own point-by-point rebuttal of where I believe Root is missing the whole point.
Root begins with the famous joke about a devout man stuck on a roof during a massive flood. He refuses any and all help, claiming that he’s waiting for God. Now, the man dies and meets God, and he asks about God’s refusal to save him. God replies, “What did you want? I sent you three different people to help you.”
This man on the roof, the writer claims, is America, and Trump is our rowboat. “Maybe God,” Root says, “is trying to tell us something important — that now is not the time for a ‘nice Christian guy’ or a ‘gentleman’ or a typical Republican powder puff…. Because right about now we need a miracle, or America is finished.” Continue reading →
The day after you lose your best friend is actually worse than the day that you watch him hang. Because at least while you’re watching him die, the whole thing has an air of reality somehow, even if it’s the worst reality you’ve ever experienced. But the day after he’s dead, you wake up with this sense of unreal-ness, like maybe you dreamed it all, and now it will all be put right.
Every corner you turn, you expect to find his face on the other side. And every time a conversation starts, you strain to hear his voice. I think that’s really why we’re hiding. I mean, we’re hiding from the authorities, of course, because if Jesus is… dead, then surely the rest of us are soon to follow. But I think we’re also hiding from seeing him everywhere we used to spend time with him–in the market, at the table, sitting by the sea.
The truth is, it’s the silence and the emptiness that’s the worst of it. Because at least when you’re crying, you’re doing something. Most of us have spent the day together, and sometimes we’ve talked, or prayed, or cried together, but mostly we just sit in silence and stare at the wall, wondering what to do. Wondering how this man who we gave our whole lives to could suddenly be gone. Continue reading →
Last night, I finished reading the book Radical by David Platt. You’ll probably recognize it by the cover if you click on the link: it’s the book with the bright orange cover and the subtitle, “Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream.” It lives up to its title and its subtitle, too–this book is not for the faint of heart.
What really gets me about this book is not necessarily just how convicting it is–there are plenty of books that are–but how specifically it calls us to action. The first chunk of the book is paradigm-shifting, to be sure, but what really gives this book its strength is the practical plan it lays out at the end for taking action on that conviction. Radical challenges you to look at the gospel the way it really is, not the way you want it to be. It is a brave, insightful, and completely practical book, but in a way that could radically change your life. Continue reading →
In Old Testament times, sometimes serious agreements were created by taking animals and splitting them in half, then having the party who was making the promise walk between the halves, signifying that if they broke their part of the contract, they would be split apart like these animals.
In Genesis 15, God makes a covenant with Abram, promising that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars and that they will return to their land. But it isn’t Abram who goes between the animal halves–it’s God, manifest as a smoking firepot and a flaming torch.
God keeps his end of the bargain, but less than a chapter later, Abram disregards God and, with Sarai, decides to let Hagar the handmaid have his son instead of the son that God promised. Abram already betrays the covenant. And on a larger scale, Israel betrays him–over and over and over. As does the rest of humanity. At this breaking of the covenant, what God did at its creation symbolizes that He is the one who will have to be torn apart.
Then, 2000 years ago, while Jesus was on the cross, just before he died, cried out, “Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?” It means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
The Father, one with the Son, had abandoned the Son. God had rent himself in two over humanity’s betrayal.
But our God is not dead–He is surely alive. Three days later, Jesus rose again, proving that when man destroyed the temple, He built it again in three days. God defeated death and literally tore himself in half to save us.
Chloe Hawker 