"To infinity and beyond!" The little boy shouts this with glee as he throws up his Buzz Lightyear action figure up to the sky, screaming "Zap, zap zap!" as he pretends to annihilate all the bad guys trying to attack his toys. An evil looking Barbie with size 0 hips tries to kidnap one of his dinosaurs, but she falls to the ground silent after good ole' Buzz takes aim at her petite frame, destroying the last threat to his citizens' lives.
How many times have I seen this sight in my preschool classroom? Too many times to count, I'd answer. I can't stress the number of times I've had to rescue little girls' princess dolls from a superhero's lethal ray gun, while secretly rejoicing over the death of Barbie in my mind. I've spent many hours playing Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Captain America, etc....all the while having no clue what any of these superheros' actually do, never having seen even one of the films in my life. Even here, in college, I struggle to keep up with the boys as they discuss the latest superhero action flicks, and make references all the time to Star Wars, The Avengers, and other epic blockbusters I've never had any inkling to enjoy.
If I admittedly have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to superheros, then why I am writing this blog about it then? Well, although I do admit no knowledge of these modern pantheons of strength, all the recent buzz about these strong guys has me nostalgically remembering a topic I used to enjoy greatly, one containing the greatest superheros to ever invade the planet: the heros of Greek mythology.
In Greek mythology, the most powerful of all the gods was Zeus. He was the one who defeated the Titans and organized Mt. Olympus with his lighting rod, intellect, and charm, reigning over the heavens and the earth. He called upon Prometheus to create mankind, then chained him to a rock to have his liver extracted daily for giving mankind the sacred fire. Not content with that however, he also gave Pandora, the first woman, a box of curiosity to punish mankind, tempting her to open this box containing evil, death, pain and everything else terrible except for the small gift of hope. Later, Zeus is depicted as causing the Great Deluge, a flood in which he wipes out all of mankind and begins again because humanity has so offended the gods. He orchestrates the Trojan War, causes mischief wherever he goes, has various affairs with human women, and has a nasty habit of using that lighting rod on any who come in his way. He demanded sacrifices from the people, and they feared his wrath greatly.
This obviously isn't a god you want in control of the universe.
We however, have the true and good God controlling the universe. Perfect, mighty, and holy, he controls the hemispheres with his love and justice, never causing mankind to sin and certainly never entrapped by the moral failures that fill the pages of Greek mythology. Our God does not require sacrifices to appease his wrath, but instead offered the sacrifice of His only Son for humanity after they constantly rejected his healing hand. This same God controlled the wind and the waves with his words, and even death itself gave way beneath His victory on the cross. He knows the number of hairs on our heads, cares for the sparrows and the lilies, and hurts over His people's stubborn hearts.
This is the God controlling the universe. Now, then, and forever more.
But we know all this right? We thank Jesus everyday for how sweet and loving He is to have saved our souls from hell, to have given us new life, and to give us streets of gold to look forward to some day.
But do we respect God?
I am not within any means advocating we go back to the obviously untrue Greek myths or worship the fictional Zeus, offering sacrifices to appease his nasty temper. But do we respect our God?
In the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe movie version, Lucy asks Mr. Tumnus why Aslan is leaving them. He replies "He's not a tame lion" causing her to respond, "No, but he is good."
This causes me to think. Yes Jesus was the sacrificial lamb who meekly sacrificed His life for us on calvary and loves us tenderly. But he is also the Lion of Judah, soon Coming King, who will judge the nations of the earth in righteousness and truth, and who will call every knee to bow to his holiness. This same Jesus we jokingly in the 21st century call our "home-boy, best buddy, etc" who we are "tight with", controls the very universe, atoms and planets, allowing our every breath to take place. We offer him lip service, thank him for his blood, and then go out and party when we think we left Him at home, stuck between the pages of our bibles like a genie in a bottle we can free anytime we need a magic wish.
Do we respect our God? He could chose to "zap" us anytime, for we are but ungrateful Lilliputians trying to control the giant that has invaded what we think are our shores. We have forgotten however, that he's already won the war. What he wants now is unconditional surrender. If we surrender now, he will acquit us of our desertion and traitor status. If we wait to the end however...he must punish sin in his righteousness and he will.
Do we respect our God? Or do we respect Spiderman, Superman, and the Justice League far more in our daily lives then we do the king on the white horse riding down to claim his kingdom, calling us to join in his battle march?
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Passenger Lessons 101
Her hands grasped the wheel, fighting for control over the fast-moving vehicle. Knuckles whitened in fear as she approached the ramp, signaling acceleration. She looked over in the passenger seat and saw a familiar face, straining to stay calm, as it clutched the door handle and readied the imaginary brake beneath its feet. Seconds felt like hours as they sped up the lane, both stretching to look back and spot the oncoming traffic. Seeing nothing, they finally merged into the right lane, both breathing a sigh of release as the tremors of the afternoon faded into the safety of new driver's best friend: welcome to cruise control.
Honestly? My poor mother had to handle much while teaching my itching feet how to maneuver a peddle and brake. From the moment I tried to drive on the wrong side of the road near our home (obviously getting in touch with my British side), we both knew a long road of memories awaited us before I received my license. From multiple "almost hits" to forgetting my turn signal to attempting to turn left on red, I can't imagine how her brain needed a rest after the conclusion of the matter: me finally passing the test to become a full-fledged driver.
Having driven for three years now, I can honestly say I somewhat have found out her pain of those months. After being behind the wheel so long, always in control of the machine pulling you at unnaturally fast speeds towards your destination, climbing in the passager seat, especially with a new driver, can be one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. Old tricks I used to see my mother use, such as the imaginary brake, and grasping the side of the door, along with quick words of advice destined to annoy said driver seem to come instinctually once one realizes the gravity of placing life into another's hands. Always one to find shortcuts to where I am going, due to a hatred of arriving late, my personal favorite tidbits of advice include things such as "You could cut five minutes off by going this way" or "This road will save you some gas since its flat." These lovely handouts, needless to say, are rarely appreciated for their innate value.
Although preferring to arrive on time, I will say speeding usually doesn't tempt me, but like all drivers, I have my flaws as well. My featured rule to break: stopping at stop-signs. I prefer just slowly rolling up to the stop, searching carefully for other cars, and then going about my merry way, a merry way that once almost cost me four tickets after a cop followed my oblivious trail.
Why all the anecdotes about driving on this Wednesday night you may ask? Some of you may see the parable coming, and so therefore I will deliver as predicted. Many times in my own life I struggle with control. Having learned to carefully control my schedule, sleep time, and classwork, any change in plans is enough to cause severe stress to descend upon my goal-oriented brain. Thus comes the clincher: I have had to give up control. When I have allowed God control of my life and stuck him in the driver's seat instead of passenger number one, I learned--I am learning-- that passenger seats can be incredibly frustrating places for those used to driving alone. They get even more disconcerting to the old control freak when one realized this driver needs no tips on safety, doesn't follow shortcuts you suggest, and prefers to test the limits by exploring new places and routes one has never heard of before, spending more time that one thinks necessary at certain attractions along the way. The worst? He always stops at stop signs in life, sometimes for far longer than the prescribed three seconds I think should be allowed. Sometimes he even ignores the rule that says to let one car out and then go, spending hours just sitting there patiently, waiting for others to go out upon their business, a gentle smile upon his peaceful face.
Am I complaining about this new driver behind my wheel? No, though it may seem like it at times. For out of all drivers, I would trust him more that any other to drive my car, even if sometimes I wish I could slam on his brake. But he urges me on, into the acceleration lane, through the traffic, until I soar on the Autobahn of life, taking a relaxing breath in as he charts the course.
Honestly? My poor mother had to handle much while teaching my itching feet how to maneuver a peddle and brake. From the moment I tried to drive on the wrong side of the road near our home (obviously getting in touch with my British side), we both knew a long road of memories awaited us before I received my license. From multiple "almost hits" to forgetting my turn signal to attempting to turn left on red, I can't imagine how her brain needed a rest after the conclusion of the matter: me finally passing the test to become a full-fledged driver.
Having driven for three years now, I can honestly say I somewhat have found out her pain of those months. After being behind the wheel so long, always in control of the machine pulling you at unnaturally fast speeds towards your destination, climbing in the passager seat, especially with a new driver, can be one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. Old tricks I used to see my mother use, such as the imaginary brake, and grasping the side of the door, along with quick words of advice destined to annoy said driver seem to come instinctually once one realizes the gravity of placing life into another's hands. Always one to find shortcuts to where I am going, due to a hatred of arriving late, my personal favorite tidbits of advice include things such as "You could cut five minutes off by going this way" or "This road will save you some gas since its flat." These lovely handouts, needless to say, are rarely appreciated for their innate value.
Although preferring to arrive on time, I will say speeding usually doesn't tempt me, but like all drivers, I have my flaws as well. My featured rule to break: stopping at stop-signs. I prefer just slowly rolling up to the stop, searching carefully for other cars, and then going about my merry way, a merry way that once almost cost me four tickets after a cop followed my oblivious trail.
Why all the anecdotes about driving on this Wednesday night you may ask? Some of you may see the parable coming, and so therefore I will deliver as predicted. Many times in my own life I struggle with control. Having learned to carefully control my schedule, sleep time, and classwork, any change in plans is enough to cause severe stress to descend upon my goal-oriented brain. Thus comes the clincher: I have had to give up control. When I have allowed God control of my life and stuck him in the driver's seat instead of passenger number one, I learned--I am learning-- that passenger seats can be incredibly frustrating places for those used to driving alone. They get even more disconcerting to the old control freak when one realized this driver needs no tips on safety, doesn't follow shortcuts you suggest, and prefers to test the limits by exploring new places and routes one has never heard of before, spending more time that one thinks necessary at certain attractions along the way. The worst? He always stops at stop signs in life, sometimes for far longer than the prescribed three seconds I think should be allowed. Sometimes he even ignores the rule that says to let one car out and then go, spending hours just sitting there patiently, waiting for others to go out upon their business, a gentle smile upon his peaceful face.
Am I complaining about this new driver behind my wheel? No, though it may seem like it at times. For out of all drivers, I would trust him more that any other to drive my car, even if sometimes I wish I could slam on his brake. But he urges me on, into the acceleration lane, through the traffic, until I soar on the Autobahn of life, taking a relaxing breath in as he charts the course.
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