FOR SEASONS OF BEAUTY AND TENSION

 

It was my birthday, and among many gifts received, three were remarkable and rare: a letter from a dear aunt (letters are so much more personal than email or phone calls) and two video renditions of Vivaldi’s four seasons: one a full orchestra in formal splendor, the other an a capela sextet. Both of the musical presentations lifted my spirit while pulling my heartstrings as they reminded of the beauty of the earth and wonder of the skies. Vivaldi is not known for being conducive to worship, nor is my aunt known for Christian piety (though she’s got an enormous blend of zest for life and common sense), but they made my day and caused me to say “Thank you, God”.

Yesterday I read an article for ministers about the tension between pastoral excellence and a life of scholarship, and it struck a full ring of keys. I am not a pastor, nor am I a scholar, but as a Christian who enjoys thinking and cannot but write, the pull of ordinary, everyday, intellectual integrity, and hunger for beauty and excellence, while present and constantly remaining barefoot, true, and coherent in what I think with what I do.

Used to think such tensions were part of adolescence, later conceded that they came with being a woman but would dwindle with maturity. Now I’ve had to admit that “golden years” may bring increasing pains of aging, dwindling mobility and white hair, but maturity is still elusive – I may be getting old  but am far from being wiser or more settled. Oh, I’m okay with my spouse whom I love more than ever, and with myself though there are areas I can’t begin to plumb. We’ve carved out a good life and reached many of the goals of our youth.   But there is so much more I want to understand, be, develop, do, produce, expand… I have time on my hands because no job and no kids at home allow me to “do whatever I want”. My husband’s health has improved to no longer need to care 24 hours a day—he is returning to thinking and doing many creative, productive tasks that don’t require my help.

But I have no time for getting one single thing done as planned. Writing deadlines are seldom reached – well, I write in the dead of night and cross lines every day between writing ordinary, even superficial stuff, with deep insights into God’s Word and people’s worth. This Garland blog, for example, has been dormant for months – and I can’t get my keyboard unstuck. My proposed second novel has been waiting with question marks from chapter eighteen on, for the last eighteen months. The planned book on changes in life from the Biblical lens of Paul’s letter to Philippians is still in the planning. Nothing’s changed since before Lau was hospitalized. Joyous to be home, I get some weeding done, scatter seeds in my garden, but procrastinate the dreaded total revamping of my back yard. Hands and back ache too much! Walk through the orchard and verify that macadamia and persimmon will be producing, got lemons galore, got tired of so many chestnuts and still am hopeful for our peaches, passion fruit and jaboticaba. Planned to sit down and put my collection of recipes and home-cooked stories on paper for publishing by February—not 2016, but last February. It is still simmering in my imagination, though I’ve enjoyed scores of Nigella and Jamie Oliver and Barefoot Contessa and Bel Gil and Rita Lobo on TV these past months. Get real, Beth! Gonna have to speak to the Rock in the desert for the water to flow?!

Yes, must speak to the Rock, drawing near and keeping my eyes focused on Him, listening to Him more than to the sounds of multiple screaming tidbits of demands that that burst like soap bubbles as soon as you attend to them. Wanted to study more, prime my thought-patterns for sharing with friends who seem hungry for the Word (which I profess to aim to communicate). Only managed to publish one article in academic paper, two years (or was it three?) after I researched and wrote it. Get some likes on my facebook communiqués, but even dumb blonds’ posts (pardon the pun) get liked on facebook. In what is my life making a difference?

When I went to the Moody Write to Publish conference in 1988, my room mate was an eight-plus lady who had published years ago and then bemoaned her article about “how to date and get a husband” being rejected by a Christian woman’s magazine. I was forty, at my prime writing period, and was bemused at this lady’s not having a clue as to why such things occur. Lord, keep me from being that way today! Keep me renewed in writing every day—even when I reach Edith Scheaffer or Elizabeth Eliot’s old age (well, now both my mentor writers are in God’s presence living what eye has not seen nor has ear heard!) and I’m still in my sixties.

The pull between having, ambition to be well-pleasing to God, with excellence as goal – and being an ordinary, barefoot, clean-faced older student/writer is a see-saw — or roller coaster—for the young and daring. How dare mature ladies like me venture on such a tilt-a-whirl?

My consolation is that such tensions are common to many human beings like me (“common to man” is the biblical expression). The great Reformers, Calvin and Luther both had bouts of doubt and deep frustration. The greatest writer-pastor-apologist  in Christian history wrote:

I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… I know that nothing good dwells in me… I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Romans 7:15-25

And yet to those at Philippi, Paul wrote:

I press on to make it my own, because Jesus Christ has made me  his own… forgetting what lies behind and straining forth to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14

Garden trivia and writers’ block, living in a home that always needs fixing and fixing furniture and décor one day at a time all remind me of the exquisite beauty of Four Seasons and the common grace of a great letter from Aunt Cindy, because though we wage an inner war that spills outward, we run a race that Jesus has already won for us. Hands on in working! Hands raised in praise. God is not through with me yet.

 

Elizabeth Gomes

INTERRUPTIONS, IMPEDIMENTS AND UNEXPECTED SURPRISES

On the lookout for stories that change lives? One need look no further than the incredible true tales narrated by Dr. Luke in two books of the New Testament: the Gospel of Luke and Acts of the Apostles. In both books dedicated to a “person who loved God“ (Theophilus) he shared “a narrative of the things accomplished among us” (Luke 1.1) and continued the sequel with what happened after Jesus ascended and the Holy Spirit was given to the church, from the first days through the apostle Paul’s journeys throughout the known world.

The book of Acts is a fascinating, action-packed backdrop for Paul’s epistles, and since the letter to the Philippians is the subject of my next book, I wondered how the church at Philippi got started. Like many wondrous things that happen in life, this church began with an impediment and a change of plans. Paul had spent some time in Antioch teaching and preaching, and after sharp disagreement with his old mentor Barnabas over letting Mark go with them or not, chose Silas and departed for his second missionary journey, still in Asia Minor, through Syria and Cilicia, the Derbe and Lystra (where Timothy was added to the missionary team), and then Phrygia, Galatia and Mysia. The plan was to go to Bithynia—but their well-though-out plan was interrupted by a huge impediment: “The Spírit of Jesus did not allow them”. So they passed by Mysia and went on to Troas—where a vision came to Paul: “Come over to Macedonia and help us!” Here Luke continues the narrative as “we” instead of “they”: “Immediately we sought to go on to Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them”.

From Troas to Samothrace, Neapolis and Philippi, about eight miles inland--  “a leading city of the district of Macedonia”—founded over two centuries before Christ  by Philip II, father of Alexander the Great, and after Rome conquered Persia, a Roman colony. Their first stay in Europe.

Remaining in the city some days, on the Sabbath Paul and his companions sought a place of worship. There was no synagogue, but there would be a gathering of the faithful “by the riverside”. Since the time of Ezra, Jews in Diaspora would gather to worship by the river in whatever city they lived, (Ezra 8:15; Psalm 137:1). Not even enough men for a minyan—but there were some women who worshipped God. Lydia was an expat from Thyatira (near Tarsus from  whence Paul had been born). Convert number one in Philippi: Lydia, a businesswoman who dealt with an expensive product: purple dyed fabric, cloth and clothes fit for royals. Today she might be comparable to a director of the House of Dior or Givenchy. Whether she was a Jew or Gentile, she was “a worshipper of God” whose heart was opened to “pay attention to what was said by Paul” (Acts 16.14). After being baptized with her entire household, she “urged us saying, If you have judged me faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay”. So the first convert became hostess for at least Paul and Silas, Luke and Timothy.

The second narrative “as we were going to the place of prayer” tells of an irritating and constant interruption.  Every time they went to the prayer meeting, a demonized slave girl went after them, calling out loudly: “These men are servants of the most high God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation!” What she said was absolutely true, but annoyed Paul because the affirmation was instigated by an evil spirit of divination (Leviticus 19:31: “Do not turn to mediums or necromancers; do not seek them out and so make yourselves unclean…”). Fed up, Paul turned to her and commanded the spirit to come out of her in the name of Jesus Christ. The girl was freed from the evil one, but those who owned and used her “gifts” were furious because “their hope of gain was gone”.  Convert number two in Philippi: an unnamed, tormented slave girl who lost her devious ability to read the future by the power of Jesus Christ.

This conversion resulted in “the owners” seizing Paul and Silas, dragging them to the marketplace before the rulers, and accusing them of being Jews (anti-Semitism laid bare) and “disturbing the city”, advocating “customs that we Romans cannot accept or practice”. Adding insult to injury, the rabble joined in attacking them, and the magistrate tore the garments off them and ordered them beaten with rods. After inflicting a severe beating on the messengers of salvation, they threw them into prison, telling the jailer to guard well the disturbers of the peace.

This takes us to the jail, scene of conversion number three. Tortured, beaten, falsely accused, Paul and Silas did not mention their privileged citizenship status, and instead, did what they always advised the brethren: “Rejoice in the Lord always” (Philippians 4:4) —praying and singing hymns to God. The prisoners were listening to them when an earthquake shook the prison foundations and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone`s bonds were unfastened. Freedom for the prisoners meant death to the jailer, so the jailer`s reaction was to attempt to commit suicide instead of undergo the shame of capital punishment by the authorities above him. Paul saw what he was planning to do and intervened: “Don`t kill yourself! We are all here!“ He called for lights, trembling with fear, and fell down before Paul and Silas asking what he must do to be saved. “Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved, you and your household.” The hardened prison warden took them in and washed their wounds, and he was baptized with his entire family. Then he brought them to his home and gave them food and “rejoiced along with his entire household that he had believed in God“.

People in leadership positions, such as Lydia and the Warden, were saved and included their entire households in this gift of new life. The slave girl, whose sole identity lay in what she produced for her masters, was saved individually,  receiving a completely new identity—and caused an uproar in town because “These men are disturbing our city”. Each person saved in Philippi became a believer through unique means, as they were unique persons – pious  and wealthy God-worshipper, an impudent, wild, demon-possessed fortuneteller, the civil servant jail warden who went from attempting suicide to aiding and abetting his maximum security prisoners --were each and all saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.

After everything that happened, the magistrates sent the police to release the apostles, but Paul spoke up: “They beat us publicly and threw us into prison, though we are Roman citizens, and want us to leave quietly?! No, let them come themselves and take us out.” When the magistrates realized that they had mistreated Roman citizens, they were frightened, and went to Paul and Silas with apologies, asking them to leave the city. The apostles left prison and went to visit Lydia. When they had seen the brothers, they encouraged them and departed.

Years later, when Paul wrote to the strongly established Philippian church, commending them for their “partnership in the gospel from the first day until now“ (Philippians 1:5) told them that they had been given the gift of not only believing in Christ but of suffering for his sake, “engaged in the same conflict that you saw I had and now hear that I still have“(1:30). He goes on to write the most encouraging text for Christians of all ages, social and political situations, of all eras, about the mind of Christ:

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father Philippians 2.

I LOVE THE FACT THAT WE WERE MARRIED YOUNG

What does one have to say about marrying young? First, though older than many of my readers, I think of myself as being young for a longer time – though I have to consider that through living hard and never easy, there are benefits to learning  through hindsight! Yes, I married younger than most people I know today. I was just eighteen and still in school. Forty eight years my husband, Lau still tells me daily that he loves me more today than yesterday, and less than tomorrow.  I repeat the same mantra to him, and mean every word.   When someone looks at our old wedding snapshots (yes, snapshots in black and white—we had no professionally-crafted gorgeous album like the ones young friends share today.)  Our few pictures are unforgettable, as were some of the incidents that surrounded our wedding.

The day before our  wedding, Lau drove three hours plus  to São Paulo to look for the justice of the peace who had forgotten to sign the petition for our civil wedding (in Brazil of those days, one had to have a civil wedding with a justice before celebrating  the religious wedding in church). After trying three or four restaurants, he found the judge and gave him the document, which he signed, and returned to Araras, where we were married.

While my future husband was going through the rat race to get everything ready, one of my childhood friends, who was also engaged and had come to see us tie the knot, asked me, “Do you ever have doubts about whether you should get married or not?” I told her, “If there were any doubt, I’d never get married.  We’re still in school, have no money, have nothing but each other…” Shortly after we returned from our three-day honeymoon, I got a letter from that friend telling us that she had broken their engagement.

One of the reasons many Christians marry young is the pressure of sexual attraction – a very normal fact of life. Non-Christians don’t see that as a problem, because premarital sex is a given. Like almost everything in this post-modern world, non-believers believe they are entitled to sex whenever they “feel it’s right”, and so they often “feel good” about having sex without responsibilities or commitment. Many times over. But Christian young people who want to live according to God’s standards are pressed to bursting because the Bible warns to flee promiscuity and sexual sin, and they want to be true to the Word of God. Or else, they live a double standard, saying they obey biblical principles, while in practice, they live exactly like their non-Christian friends. The world preaches that “safe sex” is using protection to avoid pregnancy, STD’s and AIDS. The Bible teaches that safe sex is married sex with one partner to whom one is committed for life: a triple marriage pact between a man, a woman and the God they serve.

Some couples manage to let God rule their hormones and practice chastity until the Lord gives them the green light after the wedding, but many more flounder and almost drown, repent and start again on the path of sexual purity. But that is just one of the aspects that push people toward early marriage.

They say that the teenage years are the best years of one’s life, but if your life is any way like mine was when I was a teen in the sweet, psychodellic sixties, we take issue. Teen years often suck. My parents were at war, stifled by life and so broken they could not see their daughters’ pain. They finally divorced, but my sister and I were never what we would have been, if only .… (that’s one of the myths often dreamed: the idea that if we’d only had better circumstances, better opportunities, less stress, we could have become president of the USA, or a singing actress, a sports super star, or Bill Gates, or at least queen of the prom).  Keeping balanced between what you dream and how your life plays out is no easy task—plus, you seesaw both academically and socially in school, between dreams of successful , good-money-paying work and realities of delivering pizza or babysitting, in relationships where the all-important  “all or nothing” stand leaves you stranded, often alone, with nothing to it.

In one way, teens today have it worse than ever:  their expectations far exceed their realizations, and the result is general, unbridled frustration. You can be anything.  Just do it. Go for it.  Follow your dream. You deserve it – and discover you are just one among the millions who heard the same clichés and took them to heart as personal prophecies – unfulfilled.

Over three thousand years ago, the writer of Ecclesiastes said, “Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come” and despite all the problems of youth, young days are the days where what we think, dream and decide will have repercussions all the days of our life – and to eternity. My decisions to follow Christ, to study and to work for Him, were made in my youth. Wadislau and I made our decision to love each other, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, for better or worse, when we couldn’t imagine all the twists and turns life would present. But we had a couple of things in our favor.

We married in the Lord. We didn’t just love each other, think it felt right, hope it would work out, or do the best  we could under the circumstances – from day one, the Lord Jesus (and not our growing/ fleeting/sink or swimming love) was the foundation for our marriage. Whatever our lot, we were in it together and no one would pull us apart.

 Jesus reiterated the creation account of Genesis, saying: Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother, hold fast (King James version says ”cleave”) to his wife, and the two of them shall become one flesh.  So they are no longer two, but one flesh (Matthew 19: 5-6).

The first verb in this affirmation is leave his father and mother. That implies maturity to live independently, no longer under the same roof, financial responsibility or paternal/maternal authority. One has to be mature enough to start a new home – have a job that takes care of basic needs of the couple, and the two join forces and incomes for one good: their home. The home isn’t the house or apartment you buy or rent and set up—home is you and your spouse together, wherever you are.  If we aren’t ready to leave home, we are not ready to marry. Leaving is not abandoning or rebelling, it is leaving well and settled!  If someone leaves his or her parents in anger or bitterness, she or he continues to be influenced by the home of origin and has never “left  home” in fact. It is a matter of growing up emotionally, socially, professionally, financially – undergirded by spiritually.

If the two lovebirds are mature and ready to leave their parents and live independently, the second aspect of Jesus’ admonition is cleave to your spouse.  If you are like we were when I was eighteen and Lau twenty-one, “cleaving and becoming one flesh” was our dream of dreams. Sometimes we forget all it entails: 

— besides the obvious and marvelous  working out of a robust sex life – which takes work and practice and doesn’t happen as  a once and for all magic moment – one grows and becomes a loving couple when both invest 100% of all they’ve got.

— my spouse is my very best friend – no one else shares our intimacy, our plans or our problems more or better that the two of us. My buddies or mom or whoever do not determine our life together.

— we don’t bicker over who earns more or who gets to spend his/her own money on what we want independently. — we are one flesh – we decide together what we will do with ourselves, with our money, with our plans. Our goal is “the common good” of the couple. Sometimes one in the partnership is better than the other at administrating, and the other more prodigal at spending, but we have to both agree about what we will do with what we have (or don’t have). Maybe we have to set a limit on what and how we spend – many people sink in a sea of debt before they learn that their money (like their name!) doesn’t belong exclusively to one of them. If I can afford to spend X on lunch money I can’t go out and splurge at a restaurant and expect everything to smooth out miraculously.  Any major financial decision must be weighed by both together!

Becoming one flesh is much more than enjoying sex. Casual sex is a horrid lie because something deep and meaningful can never be casual if it is going to last. And good sex was not made to be forgotten or despised.

Today, most articles about marriage focus on the wedding, and many couples spend way more than they can afford to put on a memorable show, but do not invest anything in their marriage as a leave-cleave-one-flesh one of a kind affair.

 Even if that is not the case, many couples who take too long to get married do so because they want to start out life with all the perks their parents have now – a well-furnished house and maybe money in the bank. One of the advantages of marrying young is that you work together toward your joint goals. Every goal you achieve together draws you closer. That means you work hard and know you won’t immediately have everything you dream of, but both know the cost of things and the value of being together over getting rich.

In the same way, many (if not pregnant when marrying) postpone having kids till they’ve landed their dream job or bought a house. They know they can’t afford having a baby. But one of the reasons God gave us marriage is to have kids! He said “be fruitful and multiply” and children are a blessing from the Lord. Even unfertile couples are blessed by a generous God, and can adopt, or at least help friends with children who struggle by voluntarily babysitting or taking a kid to a ball game so their mom and dad can have a date.  Willing to have kids is a must. Being married means you can be parents – so you’d better prepare for that!  Some of the most wonderful people in the world are products of an unplanned pregnancy, and Christian couples have to plan for the possibility that their love will multiply into a little spit ‘n image of them both, who will grow up to be a person unique and  as  different  as each of you are. So if you are planning to get married, you imply that you will accept the burden and blessing of children with no complaints. That’s part of the package. Of course you will plan, use acceptable birth control – but know that the only one totally in control is the God who made you, and He just might think a kid will temper your life with gladness!

I’ve mentioned matters that are very private and I or any other person, young or old, do not have a right to barge  in or manipulate or tell another human being what they can or cannot do. We are not God. When Lau and I married, we were still in school, yes, but we had left our original homes and were independent and responsible for our own livelihoods. We worked when weren’t in classes – often early morning (at four AM Lau had to get milk freshly milked on a farm!) for the seminary students’ seven AM breakfast. I often was cooking some treat to sell or giving remedial English classes to colleagues until late at night – and we had a commitment to each other and to God (and to those who were going to invest in our missionary support when we graduated) to keep our grades and spirits high. We worked hard! And we stuck together! (And I got pregnant immediately!)

I know life is not the same as it was almost fifty years ago, but neither are we! We often groaned as we became grown, but God in His mercy saw us through and is still working on us. Yes, being old and decrepit does not make us any wiser! What makes Christians—young and old, men and women, well-educated or fairly ignorant—wise is what Proverbs calls “The fear of the Lord”. That is what makes us able to say “I am not afraid of what man (human beings, male or female) can do, for I will trust in Him. Obey Him. Live for Him, whether single or married. That is absolutely the best state in which to live!

Elizabeth Gomes

A WOMAN OF CONTINUITY AND CHANGE

 

La donna è mobile, cual piuma al viento… “My! How you’ve changed!” “I can’t believe you’re doing that!” “Never know your mood.” “With her, I never know what to expect!” Many times we’ve hear those refrains, probably uttering similar comments ourselves. Change is good, change is bad, nothing changes, she’s changeable as the weather—we are delighted, frustrated, overjoyed, instigated, exasperated, feel overcome  by warmth,  are struck cold as ice—change in others does all of this and more. In ourselves, we long for positive changes in life, finances, affections, circumstances, and decry the downhill slide which often characterizes the changes we longed for. All of us are moved by change—none of us enjoy the pain that goes with it. We want to move on—we wish to go back to when…

Guess one of the richest gifts of maturity is retrospective memory.  I love to remember the beauty and clumsiness of youth, the fresh perspectives of expectations that were surprisingly fulfilled in ways never dreamed, frustrated hopes and multiplied renewals in life that scraped and shaped me. We will never return to “the way we were”—though in some ways--in germinal ways--we always were what we are now, and our future holds incredible turnings even though we will (in some ways) always be tomorrow who we are today.

Thinking of Biblical women who were familiar with more than skin-deep change, I always go back to Priscilla. If older women are to teach and model piety and righteousness to the younger generation, according to Paul’s vision of women’s roles in letters to Timothy and Titus, the wife of Aquila is a “Teacher of the Years” example to me and millions of Christian women over two millennia. Priscilla appears in Luke’s narrative of Paul’s stay in Corinth after his watershed sermon at the Areopagus in Athens. The Jewish couple had “recently come from Italy… because Claudius had commanded all the Jews to leave Rome”. So they were refugees, displaced persons, exiles in a strange land. Originally from Pontus (Northeastern region of Asia Minor on the shores of the Black Sea), these (Turkish) Jews left their home and everything they had built in the Capital of the World to re-settle in Greece. There is no mention of children or other relatives—I imagine them as a middle-aged or older hard-working couple who had enjoyed some prosperity but suffered tremendous loss and upheaval right when they thought they would be settled.

Their tentmaking trade was essential for wandering Jews and unstable Gentiles alike. From the Orthodox who “had their tents carried before them” for any Sabbath travel, to Gentile merchants and tradesmen of all nations around the Mediterranean Sea, Aquila and Priscilla would always have clients. Today we call bivocational missionaries “tentmakers” because, like their colleague Paul, this godly couple  worked leather and sturdy textiles into transportable shelters, and simultaneously sheltered the Word of God that dwelt in them, sharing their know-how and knowledge with any who would listen. Paul stayed and worked with them and was “occupied with the Word” in the synagogue every Sabbath. After Silas and Timothy joined the apostle and Jewish opposition increased, Paul left the Aquila-Priscilla household  and moved to the home of a Gentile believer, Titius Justus, next door to the synagogue. There, Crispus, president of the synagogue and his family all became believers, and Paul remained in Corinth for eighteen months. Certainly Priscilla heard about Paul’s vision and took those memorable words to heart:

Do not be afraid, but go on speaking

 and do not be silent, for I am with you,

 and no one will attack you to harm you,

          for I have many in the city who are my people.

 Paul suffered united attack by the Jews, who took him to court—where the Corinthian magistrate refused to judge religious matters. The angry Jews beat Sosthenes in front of the tribunal, and Gallio “paid no attention to any of this”. After staying “many more days longer”, Paul and his entourage took leave of the brothers and set sail for Syria, “and took with him Priscilla and Aquila”. Now the tentmakers were colleagues in foreign missions—a creative, productive solution for people who realize that above all, they are pilgrims in a strange land. Many ports, many towns were their stopping places. In all the region of Phrygia and Galatia Paul went on  “strengthening all the disciples”. Priscilla and Aquila decided to stay longer in Ephesus—especially after hearing Apollos speak, and weighing the opportunity to minister in his life. They did not badmouth the young preacher for his errors, but “took him aside and explained to him the way of God more accurately”. From Acts 18 through 19, it looks like Priscilla and her husband were adept at mending and tying loose ends in the lives of people they touched, risking their lives, putting in practice the doctrine they learned from their rabbi Paul.

They did return home—a political change again made them resume residence in Rome, because when Paul wrote his letter to the Romans (around 58 AD), he greets Prisca and Aquila as “my fellow-workers  in Christ Jesus, who risked their necks for my life, to whom not only I give thanks but all the churches of the Gentiles give thanks as well” (Rom. 16:3).

When Paul got his wish and arrived in Rome it was not as a free Christian-Jewish academic and Roman citizen native of Tarsus. He had appealed to Caesar and was a prisoner in Rome—perhaps under house arrest part of the time, but most certainly under constant surveillance.  Priscilla and Aquila must have been frequent visitors who alleviated his incarceration with food and clothing and maybe  books (later he  would ask Timothy bring his coat, books and especially parchments he had left in Troas -- 2 Tim 4:13).  And continued to be disciples, as they also continued discipling others.

Paul wrote to the Christians at Philippi: “it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. And most of the brothers, having become confident in the lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear…” (Philippians 1:13-14) Paul’s prison letters (to people at Ephesus, Philippi, Colossus--Philemon was a member  of the Colossian church to whom he wrote personally in defense of the runaway slave whom Paul must  have met and evangelized in jail) are pregnant with life-giving doctrine  and life-living  joy.

 Joy was the theme of one who did not know if he would live or die, but learned to be content: “Making my prayer with joy”  (1:4); “”Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice” (1:18); “I will rejoice for I know that through your prayers…”; “continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith” (1:25);”complete my joy” (2:2); “I am glad and rejoice… likewise you also should be glad and rejoice with me” (2:17-18); “Receive him with all joy” (2:29);”Finally my brothers, rejoice in the Lord”(3:1); “my brothers whom I love and long for, my joy and crown” (4.1); “Rejoice in the Lord, again I say rejoice”(4:4); “I rejoiced…”(4:10)

I suspect that Priscilla learned that kind of contentment throughout the months and years she and her husband were associated with the apostle. The words of the hymn “When I survey the wondrous cross” resound with Paul’s teaching: “My richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride”. A woman who lived through many changes in life— living well through wealth and poverty, sojourner in tent without a roof over her  head, yet giving shelter to young and old, apostle and new Christian, possibly living the loneliness of childlessness, but anchored by a husband who was with her at all times and found refuge in Christ alone—going back to where she started, while that return will never be the same—you and I can relate to Priscilla’s changing status, moving circumstances and fluctuating feelings that accompany myriad changes. Like Israel of old that dwelt in tents under the shadow of the Almighty and the Pillar of Fire, gathering manna and quail in the wilderness.  “I have learned to be content”; “I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me.”

Like you and me, Priscilla was not a noblewoman noted for her strength or prowess. She was a working woman—a thinking woman, knowledgeable to the point of “straightening out” wrong ideas of a talented young preacher! Probably she cried and wrung her heart each time change meant loss—Pontus, Rome, Corinth, Ephesus, Rome, to the ends of the earth. But she learned to rejoice always and return, always being where God wanted her to be—wherever and under whatever circumstances they were.

I have made friends of all ages, all lifestyles and walks (or sprints) of life. When with children and grandchildren of friends of my youth, I must remember the freshness and vigor that opened the door to my heart, and look to them likewise. To aged friends battling their constant losses and disfranchising, I must share hope that “I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me”. To those caught in the boredom of middle-years’ sameness, I can share the newness of abundant life. Many are the virtuous women whose stories flood the Bible with character and courage, and we women of postmodernity can learn from them. I hope to have learned a little with a woman sojourner and missionary called Priscilla, whose husband Aquila was both Eagle and Needle.  We are not wanderers lost and tossed by life—we are pilgrims with purpose and destiny, who enjoy (even if sometimes groaning!) each step of the way.

Elizabeth Gomes

THANKSGIVING

kata. pa,nta euvcaristei/te\ dio,ti tou/to ei=nai

to. qe,lhma tou/ Qeou/ pro.j evsa/j evn Cristw/| VIhsou/Å

Em tudo, dai graças, porque esta é

a vontade de Deus em Cristo Jesus para convosco.

In every thing give thanks: for this is

the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

1 Thessalonians 5.18

 

Thanksgiving Day is just around the corner, and I am on a see-saw of intercultural thoughts that poke my muse. In the United States, it is a national holiday that reminds of when  pilgrims celebrated a worship service of thanksgiving because, after having suffered two devastating winters that cut down many of their people, they now had an abundant harvest of what they had planted and would be stored for the coming winter months. Initially the New World colonists were Reformed Calvinists escaping religious persecution in their countries of origin. To this banquet they invited the Native Americans who had given them succor in their affliction, seeds for planting, teaching new fishing and hunting methods and harvesting the fruit of the land. These guests did not see themselves as having the liberty of stuffing themselves to death, but as honored and worthy co-laborers, they also brought their food to share with these light-skinned, dark-clothed, often clumsy colonists who prayed to one only God, spoke a complicated language and sported many weird customs.

Brazil, for ages copycat of everything American, did not easily adopt this day. Though there was no small effort by the Bradesco Bank in the Sixties to celebrate National Thanksgiving Day throughout Brazil, they did better at copying the commercial Black Friday of shopping malls. We are bombarded with “80% OFF” consumer objects we do not need, in a frenzy to buy, buy. sped, spend, I want, I need, I just couldn’t resist—and we forget to give thanks for the grat blessings and small victories in which we live and move.

True, many in North America also forget their history of faith and see this day as Turkey Day, watching football (American, not the Brazilian national sport which Americans call soccer), family that only communicates once a year get together to eat until they burst. Why turkey? Because Indians taught colonists how to hunt wild ones and send starvation far away.

I've bought my turkey and will share it wth about fifty young people of all ages from our church (IPP) who will be coming over to our farm on Saturday (because in our State of São Paulo this Thursday is no holiday) for a community feast. Hope the other forty nine also bring food and drink because one turkey, even an eighteen-pounder, is too little for so many people! Yes, the Lord Jesus will be present, but in our present era does not go around splurging the New Testament times miracle of multiplication of fish and loaves on postmodern believers--who should be learning to work hard for our daily bread and have enough to share, while simultaneously resting in the Lord of Life and Provider of All Things. Just one more of those thoughts and facts we must learn to weigh, balance, share and pass on to our neighbors and kin.

I remember a Thanksgiving a few years ago in Philadelphia, when we invited my uncle Philip Stowell to our table. I made a huge pumpkin stuffed with shrimp, Brazilian style, and he gave us the gift of the story about when he was in the Navy after the second world war and was assigned to help the chef prepare turkey stuffed with “oyster dressing”— for hundreds (or thousands?!) of gringo soldiers homesick for a real thanksgiving banquet. À propos, we also had a stuffed turkey for dinner in Philly: the bird was a gift from Nina, my boss and the pastor’s wife from the church we attended in exilio,) and the fixings of cranberry sauce, corn, creamed onions, other vegetables and cornbread. An international culinary mishmash!

I know our dinner did not quite match the banquet Uncle Phil described, but we were grateful for the mercies and providence of God during meager as well as feasting times He always gives. And we “weird foreigners with strange customs” were able to share with my “all-American New Englander” since Cotton Mather and Pocahontas’s times uncle, a little of the joy of Jesus. Like many senior citizens in North or South America, he was extremely lonely and we had  a profusely present family to liberally give away.

Presently we live in a city founded by bandeirantes of Portuguese origin that sunk their roots in Mogi das Cruzes more than  450 years ago. Lau is a descendant of, a bandeirante and the legendary Native Brazilian Bartira. I am remembering ancestors who crossed the Atlantic in tiny ships and once on dry land , built, with axe, shovels and rough tools, first a school and a church, before putting up their frugal one-room homes lacking “essential commodities”—but knew their Bibles, sharing what they knew with their children, neighbors and friends. I remember the relationship David Brainerd developed with the Indians less than a hundred years later from the budding English New World colony, and  see shadows loom tall, of people molded by faith in the God who had chosen them to be His people.

Now I fast-forward to this next-weekend’s video and try to balance my wandering thoughts about food, hospitality to friends, giving and receiving, giving thanks in everything and for everything, with tales of the first  Thanksgiving in the New World and the thanksgiving of the Hebrew people in the desert after their exodus from Egypt. In spite of the complaints characteristic of God’s people under Moses or under Obama or Dilma today, whether an abundance of quail instead of wild turkeys, manah instead of cornbread or Indian Pudding, water bursting from a rock in the desert instead of abundant streams and lakes of the “beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain”, there have always been reasons to give thanks. Later, in the land of Israel conquered, inhabited, consolidated, invaded, sacked by consecutive kings and warriors, and many times re-built, Bread and Water of Life came down incarnate. After His death and resurrection, while Pedro and Company Ltd decided to go back to fishing and couldnt catch anything, Jesus waited for them on the rocky shore and prepared  a breakfast of grilled fish and pita bread, to talk with them about love and shepherding God’s flock  (John  21:3-24). Jesus had multiplied a boy’s lunch of fish  ad rolls for a hungry audience of over five thousand. Now He prepared the fish for frustrated fishermen and turned them into men who built His church, turned the world upside down and would indellibly mark history of Christianity for all times, to the ends of the earth. John the evangelist ends his narrative saying that  “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written”— This is the Good News for which disciples, apostles, rude fishemen and eminent theologians and thinkers of all shapes and colors, people of all kinds, from the birthplace of ancient civilization to the setting sun of modern civilization have reasons galore to give thanks. no longer need promote --local, national, traditional or borrowed from different cultures, neither descendants of English, Dutch, disinherited Portuguese, slaves brought over on ships from Africa, or landowning slaveholders  -- once-a-year days of thanksgiving –

a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues...  and all the angels ... the elders ... and beasts fell before the throne on their faces, and worshipped God, saying: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen. Revelation 7:9-12

I am looking forward to our thanksgiving dinner, whether next Saturday, Thursday or any other day we get together to celebrate. Above all, I look forward to a Wedding banquet of the Lamb, in which the guests will be of all kinds, and the Host and Owner of the Party, the only Lord. You, and any who want to, are invited to join us!

Elizabeth Gomes

OH JERUSALEM!

 

In 1998 friends who had been part of our church in Boston offered a gift to us—the dream of my life: a trip to the Holy Land. Their generosity not only gave us ten days of tourism that stretched the limits of our heartstrings, but continue to bless and perturb sixteen years since.

It was the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the modern State of Israel, and the girl who dreamed Israel since she began to read Bible history at around eight years of age had also turned fifty. Lau and I had started our ministry in 1969 among Jews in Belo Horizonte, Minas Gerais,  and São Paulo, even after we left that mission, continued to study and remain fascinated with things Jewish. He taught Jewish Evangelism at the seminary from which we had graduated, and I read and befriended judaica: people, ideas and achievements. As committed Christians, we believed that there is still an important place in God’s dealing with humanity for the children of Israel. Jewish friends were part of our life; we believed Yeshua to be Hameshiach, but did not try to proselytize—only pre-evangelizing, creating bridges and bonds which would reach out and bring into the fold of the Great and Only Shepherd of Israel.

We have friends and colleagues who, while believing the Bible, interpret what it says about the future in amillennial or postmillennial ways. Though we respect them, we dare differ. Our historical premillenial view of God’s dealing with all nations of the earth allows us to make distinctions between Jews, Gentiles and the Church, and believe that God still has a purpose for each group. In one sense, the church is continuation of the children of Israel—we are sons and daughters of Abraham by faith. But Israel as a people and a nation still are unique, and there is a promise for those who pray for the peace of Jerusalem.  I identify with the apostle Paul’s longing for “the people of Israel. Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen”(Romans 9:3-8). Of course I knew that “it is not the natural children who are God's children, but it is the children of the promise who are regarded as Abraham's offspring” (v.8) and because we believe that God’s gifts and calling are irrevocable, I considered myself to be a “daughter of Sarah” by faith. "I will call them 'my people' who are not my people; and I will call her 'my loved one' who is not my loved one... they will be called 'sons of the living God.'" I applied God’s promises through Isaiah to his servant  that this people of the covenant  would be a light unto the Gentiles, to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness—which the gospel of John (8:2) attested as being Christ himself, and Dr. Luke documented in his story of  Jesus’ first sermon in the synagogue of Nazareth, when  he read Isaiah and declared, “Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing."

I was enchanted with the way Edith Schaeffer followed the crimson thread of redemption in her presentation  of Christianity as being Jewish, and rejoiced in roots in history that point to identification with Israel from days of old. But going to Israel was not a magical encounter. I walked the land where Jesus walked, but saw, on one hand, misguided Christians, just as their Jewish peers, who believed that placing a written prayer in the cracks of the ruins of the walls of the Temple would assure God’s answer to prayer (a woman minister who was in our group had been given the ticket and all expenses paid to bear the prayers of her congregation in the US and stick them in the cracks). And they went down to river Jordan to be re-baptized or dipped seven times for healing in the same manner as Elisha told the pagan general to do (a lady with cancer on the bus with me said that she had made the pilgrimage and therefore “claimed her healing” after the Jordan dip. I walked the stony shore of Galilee where Jesus talked to his disciples about stony hearts as well as singling out Peter and saying: “You are a pebble, but you are a stone also, and upon the Rock I will build my church”...

Lots of superstition surrounded a journey through the Holy Land, and the most appalling was in the visit to Omar’s Mosque, which is built on the ancient site of the Temple and where, ages before, Abraham had presented his only son in sacrifice. Lau refused to enter that monument to the destruction of Judaism. I entered to observe the artistic beauty of the architecture. While under the arches and surrounded by incredible mosaics (or would I say, arabaics) of that gold-domed palace, in my ten-minute walk through that holy spot I saw a mother sock the mouth of her little child and a man hit the face of his veiled wife. Bethlehem was visited, not by shepherds or wise men, but buyers of holy oil and olive-wood trinkets, a town infested by anti-Israel haranguers preaching at every corner to men who religiously bowed five times a day toward Mecca and while living in freedom in Israel, swear to destroy the Jews that harbor them.

Antisemitism is as old as Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and we Christians are ashamed at the many times it was wielded in the name Christ, the only Perfect Jew, against Jews of all kinds. Many of the first who colonized Brazil were “cristãos novos” – Jews forced by the Inquisition to become “Christian” or die. Cohens became Coelhos (rabbits), Pereses became Pereiras (pear trees)—but there was a coexistence even when much of the Jewish tradition was completely swallowed up.

My adopted country, Brazil, was the first to welcome the State of Israel into the United Nations in 1948, but today the presidenta made a speech in that disunited union condemning the United States’ intervention in the Middle East and saying “we must dialogue with Hamas and ISIS”, making clear her predilection for Islamic State’s atrocities in Iran and Syria against Christians and Jews, and despising anything we “anti-socialists” do for humanitarian causes. She was the only chief of State in the world to emit such a blatant discourse! Brazil is a melting pot and harbor for people of every tribe and nation—and presently a “preferred residence” for terrorists. I am appalled to see many evangelicals swallow the propaganda of godless men and women who in the name of freedom incongruously prefer an Allah-for-men-only dominated culture than Judeo-Christian thought.

Many of our friends had their origin in the Middle East: Lebanese and Armenians, Turks and Persians and not-so-modern Babylonians, Druses and Syrians. I love the food they taught us to appreciate, their generous, gregarious, hospitable welcoming of strangers. These “arabs” are in all segments of Brazilian society, many in high leadership positions far above their tiny storeowners and traveling salesmen grandparents. They coexist well with the Jewish descendants of those who fled persecution in Nazi Germany or Bolshevik Iron Curtain lands. As I think of God’s mercy on all nations of the earth, I cannot help but love and accept people descended from Ishmael, as well as from the twelve tribes of Jacob. Or from tribes of Gês, Tapuias and Tupinambás or the more than three hundred other people-nations which made up Brazil’s first inhabitants, and were also decimated by “christianizers” centuries ago.

As an unlikely and unknown American living and serving Christ in Brazil on a little piece of farmland, with no merit or fame to my credit, I pray for the peace of Jerusalem, as do many sisters and brothers like (and different from) me. But my yearning, as a citizen of heaven, is to see the day when a declaration that transcends all nationalities is made:

You are worthy to take the scroll,

And to open its seals; For You were slain,

And have redeemed us to God by Your blood

Out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation,

And have made us kings and priests to our God;

And we shall reign on the earth." (Rev. 5:9) and

behold, a great multitude which no one could number,

of all nations, tribes, peoples, and tongues,

standing before the throne and before the Lamb,

clothed with white robes,

with palm branches in their hands,

and crying out with a loud voice, saying,

"Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne,

and to the Lamb!" (Revelation 7:9-10)

Elizabeth Gomes

WRITERS, AUTHORS AND AUTHORITY

 

Recently a young friend posted on facebook the first things he planned to buy when he got royalties from the book he was beginning to write. Another would-be writer countered that he (the unhatched writer who was counting chickens as first-class aviary empire) had better wait till his beard was long and knotty before he started counting the dividends. I chuckled, because I know exactly the feeling (though have never grown a beard, smooth or knotty). Have dreamed of writing three or four Books and Culture top of the list Christian non-fiction bestsellers, as well as a New York Times fiction blockbuster since I was thirteen or fourteen, and over fifty years of my life have gone by without any of those goals being even closely reached. This does not mean that I haven’t inscribed, penned, typed, composed or digitated on personal computer any literary and life-building gems over the years – actually all I do these days (besides caring for beloved people by cooking, cleaning, gardening, putting up with anything that has to be done around our place) is read and write. Have translated over one hundred Christian books from English to Portuguese, three from Portuguese to English, a couple from Spanish to Portuguese and one big architectural manual from French to Portuguese. Still dream of producing memorable reads, and have published six books of my own as well as numerous articles over the years, but am far from being known as an author. Better known as Lau’s wife or mother of Davi (or Deborah or Daniel, depending on the social circle in which I’m mentioned) and now, grandmother of ... (won’t mention names because all seven are important young people who plan to make a difference in this wonderful fallen world)!

Back to my theme (one of my pet peeves is the tendency to run around in circles with facts, motives, thoughts and dreams), being a writer or would-be author may be the major activity in my life, but I must admit that it won’t yield much money. Here in Brazil, translations for Christian publishers are paid by the 1200-pica page, and my own books get slim royalties that do not cover the cost for having a cleaning lady once a week for the six months or more it takes to write one book.  Certainly, there are best-selling authors who buy mansions and BMW’s and get their names dropped at every party of wannabe intellectuals even in Brazil (like Paulo Coelho or defunct Jorge Amado), but they don’t write Christian books, and I do not dig for ungodly treasures. The market my husband and I write for has no booths in vanity fair – we aim for ministry, service to the body of believers and the host of unbelievers who may seek the Word of Life by some word we might communicate. Many of these unbelievers are the best thinkers and kindest doers I know, and some believers we know are unbelievably clumsy when it comes to thinking logically and biblically, but we do try to reach, teach and transform lives, and that mission marks our words. Whether read by a hundred or ten thousand, if ten people can be impacted for eternity as well as for times like these, I will count it all joy.

Just got a message from my editor asking me to give my account number so they can deposit the payment of my “author’s rights”. Last time I was paid for my “rights” it was a couple of hundred dollars. Royalties? More like serfities! Maybe made a thousand reais over the fifteen most recent years. We do get paid for what we sell, but with illness curtailing seminars and speaking engagements, sales from our books are pretty meager. My facebook acquaintance can let his beard grow for a good many years before the eggs get golden.

A couple of years ago I took an American course in writing and publishing for the Christian USA market, with the hope of breaking into print in the evangelical arena there. A modest advance for a book there would yield the money needed as down-payment to publish and advertise two books for the Christian market in Brazil, so I pursued that goal, with no results. I could not honestly say I had an audience of  ten thousand where I could speak and be heard in America. So, no sale – yet. (Did publish an article in a Sunday School take-home paper there.) Actresses and soccer players become authorities overnight even if the inane things they say cannot fill the heart and brain of an ant, but years of wisdom and service to God’s people count as nothing in the religious publishing world. I am a writer, but have no authority as a thinker and doer who makes a difference. I do not yearn for greatness or fame – only faithfulness and steadfastness in what and how I communicate. But I must learn – anew – that writing is not about ME, that I am not the author or even transcriber of good words.

The wisest of kings of Israel, Solomon, who wanted to be known throughout posterity as a Teacher not only was wise, but also knowledgeable in communicating knowledge to people. Ecclesiastes (12:9-14) says of Koheleth:

“He pondered and searched out and set in order many proverbs. The Teacher searched to find just the right words, and what he wrote was upright and true. The words of the wise are like goads, their collected sayings like firmly embedded nails-- given by one Shepherd.”  

 That is the deep desire of any writer who believes the word of our Shepherd. Like any who plan to write balancing realism and hope, he must add a warning:

 Be warned, my son, of anything in addition to them. Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body. Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will bring every deed into judgment, including every hidden thing, whether it is good or evil.

Goads and firmly embedded nails are a gift from above. No writer today is divinely inspired like Moses, David, Ezra or Apostle Paul or Dr. Luke. Yet each writer who wants to communicate godly wisdom will be judged not just by what she or he writes, but how he and she think or live—every hidden thing, whether good or evil, emerges in some way!

That is contrary to what post-modern writers of today—literary theorists, best-selling authors, Pulitzer journalists or tabloid gossipers—say about good writing. My grandsons’ teacher says that what the writer writes really does not matter, because each reader “owns” what he or she interprets, emptying any meaning the original author intended to give. One boy turned to his teacher commenting, “Well then, I can give any answer on any test any way I want, because as the reader, once it has been published, I own what the writer says, and my interpretation is as good as the next one’s.” The instructor replied, “No you can not. You have to read what I said, know what I taught and do exactly what is expected in my class. What I just affirmed is literary theory—exclusively outside the classroom and grades spectrum!”  

The teenage students came home outraged at the foolishness their teacher proposed, and immediately dug into their books on Philosophy by Christian thinkers. Which goads me to thinking about the matter of authors and authorities. In my own  teenage years, I wanted to question any authority—especially if someone was “lording it over me”. Even today I cringe when someone writes as if her words were written on stone tablets. A writer who communicates well does not shove opinions down my throat or treat me like a proverbial dumb blonde. We abhor prejudiced know-it-alls who do not respect readers and consider as mute emptyheads those who read their magnanimous postulations.

Good ideas have to precede good writing, and the only Supreme Authority is the Creator of every good gift (James 1:17)—any other creator is an imitator, no matter how much she tries to be original. God creates from nothing—we create from something the Creator has already thought, declared or done through timeless eternity! Even highly-educated, knowledgeable writers don’t know it all, and any authority they have is conceded by authorities higher than they are.

I have a friend who gushes adjectives and adverbs in torrents of verbosity, but ignores any relationship that has caused pain. Consequently, she has very little to say about what really matters in life. She doesn’t understand why her articles aren’t published—her double major and master’s degrees make her an authority in Language, but don’t produce the author she wants to be. Other friends, deficiently educated, are always attuned to life-changing ideas linked to people they love—these are perpetual learners who express themselves beautifully. Sometimes I wish I had thought or said exactly what they shared. Even their often sparse everyday conversation is never trite!

Writers of the Old Testament did not simply relate history or facts of Jewish life. The book of Ezra is about books and decrees by pagan rulers—fitting subject matter for an author well-versed in the Law of Moses as well as the history and laws of Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and the kings, advisers and powerful officials of the Middle Eastern world. But what has been documented for three thousand years about this maven writer-priest is recorded in Ezra 7:9 and 10:

 For the gracious hand of his God was on him.  For Ezra had devoted himself to the study and observance of the Law of the LORD, and to teaching its decrees and laws in Israel.

Same goes for Daniel, another wise thinker who did not write exclusively for God’s people, but inclusively for several dynasties that ruled the world. Abducted from among young princes of Judah to Babylon, God gave  knowledge and understanding of all kinds of literature and learning. And Daniel could understand visions and dreams of all kinds” (1:17)  through Daniel’s time as advisor to Darius, king of Persia, to whom he foretold the future Greek dominion, this Hebrew prince humbly wrote about events that would shatter the known world. Though they came from all walks of life—princes and cowherds were equally prophets, there were also kings unequaled in literary genius—the shepherd warrior poet David, and Schlomo, his highly educated-genius-philosopher-teacher compiler of proverbs and collector of wives.

The Gospels narrate the encounters between Jesus and the people around him, many times expressing admiration that he spoke, taught, healed, forgave, expelled demons with authority—not as their scribes (Matthew 7:29; Mark 1:22; Luke 4:32). Their writers, the educated men whose living was based on the Book, who postulated on ever jot and tittle of the Law, did not have authority when it came to living out their faith. Instead, they were like whitened tombs! After the resurrection, the disciples were invested with authority to speak boldly and impact their world for change, beginning in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth. Peter the Coward spoke and wrote movingly. Murderous Saul mellowed into a writer of letters that build and multiply the visible and invisible church to this day. A son of thunder became the Apostle of love. Incredible writers all, you can believe it!

I’ve read much about writing, and written a lot about what I’ve read over the years, and have to admit I still have eons to learn. Simultaneously more pointed as well as more softened in what I write, wish I were an author with authority, but have to settle to being scribe and translator, though I will continue writing and producing good reads, better in each article or book! Tips have been many, some useless, others priceless, but if I want to write with eternity’s values in view, it has to be like the anonymous writer of Hebrews (who, by the way, wrote several things about authority and authorship):

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Elizabeth Gomes