Would You Believe It or Not?

Would You Believe It or Not?

Either television writers have finally run out of ideas for bad situation comedies or the baby boomers' like me long for our twentieth century (60's and 70's) youth. Whatever. In our retro-chic craziness, there is now a resurgence of some of the corniest and kitsch-iest of 60's/70's programming. I am loving it! I watch it.  I paused to watch Get Smart with the residents while visiting a nursing home this week. I had forgotten how hilarious it was...is.  I'm not talking about the Get Smart with Steve Carell that boasts 2 and a half stars on rotten tomatoes.  Or the cheesy 1980 remake (even if it was with Don Adams).

I'm talking Maxwell Smart - the original series, the TV show. Don Adams "Maxwell Smart" was a spy at the height of the Cold War working for a CIA clone organization called Control to defeat the powers of evil as embodied in the sinister organization KAOS. He was a bumbling sort of an agent given to an odd grab bag of tricks to foil his enemies, be it the old secret-panel-in-the-bookcase trick, or the more popular old bulletproof-cummerbund-in-the-tuxedo trick.

 He was given to exaggeration, however. Many of his descriptions were unbelievable.

Remember this? "Sorry about that, Chief"; "Missed it by that much ... "; and most famously, "Would you believe ...?"

Secret agent Smart would inevitably come up against some brick wall of a bad guy from whom he had to escape. Smart would try to intimidate his foe by scaring him off with some hopelessly transparent exaggeration: "Right now, there are 50 armed police officers surrounding this place." When the adversary doubted him, Smart would counter with: "Would you believe 20 police and an angry dog?" With the crook still not impressed, Smart would finally suggest: "How about a troop of Girl Scouts on a cookie-sale drive?"

He continually had to revise his reports until his statements were believable.

For example, "You better drop that gun because this yacht happens to be surrounded by the Seventh Fleet .... Would you believe the Sixth Fleet? ... How about a school of angry flounder?"

 Or, "As soon as you're gone, by the use of sheer brute strength I shall be able to rip these chains from the wall in one minute. Two minutes? How about a week from Tuesday?"



I can remember reading my first Ripley’s Believe It or Not comic.  I was forced in every picture to make a faith decision: do I believe this or not? Can I believe in the Fiji mermaid? Is it a tall tale or fish tale? I wondered. And what about the "Chinese Shrunken Head," the size of a lemon? Or "Wadlow the Giant" at 8'11" tall, the human high-rise? 

I believed it all. I was no doubting Thomas. I hadn't learned to play the skeptic yet. If Maxwell Smart had asked me, "Would you believe a shrunken head the size of a lemon?" I would enthusiastically respond, "Yes, yes, I do!"



When the disciples came to Thomas with the fantastic news of a risen Savior, they asked him, "Would you believe ... that Jesus is risen? Would you believe ... that Jesus who was crucified between two thieves is alive? Would you believe ... that he has appeared to Mary and to all of us?"

 Thomas' response was that of doubt.  Thus forever Doubting Thomas. 



Thomas gets a bad rap. I think the time has come to rehabilitate the reputation of Thomas. Poor Thomas has had to walk the corridors of history known as "Doubting Thomas." There is now a Doubter’s Anonymous (dedicated to Thomas) for those who are not satisfied with blind faith. There is a rock band which travels internationally called Doubting Thomas.


It does not matter that Thomas was no better and no worse than the average disciple who would not believe either. It does not matter that tradition has him carrying the gospel to India, where there still exists an order known as Christians of St. Thomas of India. Nor does it seem to matter that this same tradition has Thomas suffering martyrdom for the faith. No-o-o-o-o, he will always be "Doubting Thomas." The disciple who opened his mouth only to change feet. Thomas, the patron saint of all of those who are the last to know. (And that would be me). 

Yes, Thomas has gotten a bad rap. His reputation as a skeptic is not only undeserved, but is also the result of a too casual reading about him.

Thomas speaks up and, addressing himself to his fellow disciples, says, "Let us also go, that we may die with him." 

(Pretty bold, not doubtful). Thomas admits that he, for one, doesn't have a clue about what Jesus is talking about. (Sounds like something I would say). "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" This, in turn, leads Jesus to speak in unambiguous terms that even we can understand, providing one of the most memorable passages in the New Testament: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life." Personally I am glad he asked.  Remember your teacher telling you the only dumb question is the one you didn't ask? Gotta hand it to Thomas.

 Jesus appears among them fully aware of how incomprehensible his appearance is to the minds and experiences of these gathered ones. He takes the initiative and shows them in his hands and side the undeniable markings of the Crucifixion. 

Lest you miss the significance of this, let me put it another way. The incredulity of this group demanded proof no less than the disbelief of Thomas and what is more, it demanded the same kind of proof. They doubted just as Thomas doubted and just as I would doubt if I were in their place. 

All of which leads to a more interesting question, which is, "Why have I developed such a negative attitude toward doubt?" I too am a "doubting Thomas" and have a lack of faith too often.  I think our world needs to see my humanity. Yes I am a believer in Jesus - but human.  I come off too many times as so heavenly minded I'm no earthly good.

I have been reared in a religious environment in which doubt is posed as the antithesis of faith. And this story of Thomas is often used to reinforce that lesson. But isn't the "doubt vs. faith" dichotomy a false issue? Is not the real enemy of faith unbelief rather than doubt? I think so. And what is more, I think that doubt has a constructive and positive role to play in the exercise of faith.

 So what am I to do? I don't want to be a "Doubting Thomas," but I am frequently beset with unresolved questions of faith. 



The three least used words in my religious vocabulary are too often, "I don't know." And in this feasting under the tree of knowledge, I rob faith of its humanness.

 Could I not, however, respond more positively to these questionings and doubts by using them as teaching moments?  I can learn from Thomas that even though I don't know where our journey may lead, it is enough that our Lord makes the journey with me.  

I'm all about rehabilitating the reputation of Thomas as one who had the courage to admit his lack of understanding.  I know in saying that I run the risk of removing my mask and other's viewing my very human face. (no comments please).

Nevertheless, I am embracing the truth learned from Thomas that doubts may not always lead to answers, but they almost always lead to growth.  I doubt I missed it but if I missed it, it was only by "that much" believe it or not.

An Affair to Remember

They say that confession is good for the soul, so here goes.  I had an affair.  There I said it.  My affair?  With laundry. With my wife out of town I found myself staring down the stinky end of a clothes hamper for the entire weekend.

Confession #2:  On weekends I have been known to re-wear my apparel.   If it has weathered the previous week with only a smudge of peanut butter and a couple splashes of coffee, there's a pretty good chance I'll don it on Saturday.  I do however draw the line at clothing I happen to be wearing around sick people. 

I, like most men,  think my dirty clothes are capable of movement.  Regardless of where the hamper is placed, my dirty items are always found on top of it, in front of it, or hanging from a doorknob.  My Mom once said something like, "Your socks are so filthy, they could walk to the machine by themselves.", and I believed her.  Why not?  The next time I looked they were gone and had reappeared magically clean and Downy Fresh in my drawer.  When I got married over 30 years ago I found out very quickly that  David Copperfield does not walk in the house while I am at work and wave some magic wand that obliterates skid-marks and ring around the collar.  There is nothing magical about having grab a pair of balled up underwear and throw them in to the laundry.  I would rather stick my hand in a septic tank.

 

During my recent affair I discovered something. Chinese engineers have developed a cloth that cleans itself. This could have a revolutionary impact on the detergent or laundry industry. Soon, our everyday, ordinary clothes will have the capacity to clean themselves. (www.extremetech.com/extreme/109215-chinese-invent-self-cleaning-cotton-clothes).

How is this possible? According to one study, dunking cotton into a vat of specially-crafted nanoparticles creates a material that self-cleans when exposed to sunlight. In one test, Chinese engineers dyed materials for 30 minutes in an orange dye. They then hung the clothes beneath simulated sunlight. The dye's hold over the fabric broke, and, after a time, easily washed off with water.

Can you imagine?  (I suppose this could go well with the marketing philosophy of AX products).  College students will no longer need to peel off their clothes after a long night of ... studying. They now can awaken, splash a little water on their faces, and stroll to class, ready and prepared for the day. Or, no need to stuff a carry-on bag with extra T-shirts or blouses. I can take a couple changes of clothes for my vacation trip and call it good. 

 

Self-cleaning clothes, however, aren't an excuse for laziness. Something is still required if I really desire cleanliness. I can't rip off my clothes and lump them into a pile, only to don them afresh come dawn. I still need to, at the very least, both hang them and rinse them, which is, strangely, similar to God's demands.  In other words, to be restored -- to be washed clean -- some work is necessary.

Click Here 

People Patrol

The first time one of our children came home from school with a note proclaiming that the notorious head louse had once again made an appearance I became a "nit-picker." Each "nit," or tiny egg of the louse, must be meticulously combed, picked or pulled from the single strand of hair it is attached to. The fact that this procedure was carried out on our squealing, enraged, embarrassed six-year-old only made the task that much more unpleasant. I have a confession to make. Unfortunately, I am like the people in my life who have perfected the art of nit-picking.  I too often feel compelled to demonstrate my skill in too many situations in my life.  I have been on 'people patrol' for over 52 years now and I am not so sure that is a good thing.  I am a Pharisee - there - I said it.

My Nit-picking always involves noting what is wrong with something and someone rather than what is right. Too often I can't enjoy anything, especially anything that has a flaw in it. With little sense of humor I get to be a pickiness-person and look for a spiritual or theological or moral "gotchas" to flaunt at others. I too well remember the nit-pickers in the story of the blind man's healing? Instead of rejoicing with the man at the miracle of regained sight, they can only focus on the possible Torah infringements that might have made it possible. (See John 9).  Oh how the Bible interprets me more than I interpret it.

Have you noticed that an accomplished nit-picker can burst any celebratory balloon? "The wedding was so beautiful; such a shame the groom couldn't have lost a few pounds for the occasion." "Congratulations on your new promotion. But you've still got an awful lot of the ladder to climb, don't you?" "The new sanctuary looks wonderful. Of course, we'll probably never grow enough to fill it or pay for it!" Deflating joy, tarnishing triumphs - that's what nit-pickers do best. Ouch!

Wound-Lickers

I remember getting a mosquito bite or a small scratch when I was a kid and then having to listen to my parents' repeated, "now don't pick at it." Of course, they had to keep telling me because there is something self-destructively fascinating about an open wound. We are drawn to it, we want to mess with it, re-examine it, pull off he scab a little at a time to see how it is healing. But this fixation can easily lead to infection - even to death.

Veterinarians must go to ridiculous-looking extremes to discourage this self-destructive instinct in their patients. In dogs and cats repetitive, damaging wound-licking can undo in a matter of minutes all the work a vet has put in on a patient for days. We once had a cat named Mr. Rogers that lost his leg in a trap.  Three inches of infected leg and paw was amputated and the remainder carefully stitched up. A week later Mr. Rogers managed to get at the healing wound, licking and gnawing it open. More infection.  Now left with nothing but a four inch stump, Mr. Rogers began to convalesce once more. But again the wound-licking fixation drove the cat to try and get at the healing stump. His licking caused the bandaged stump to swell and a horrible infection set in that spread throughout his whole system. To the best of my memory a head-gear (a cone), tranquilizers and massive amounts of antibiotics managed to save our cat's life. A wound had nearly destroyed him.

When the Pharisees in John 9:18 recall the healed man's parents as possible witnesses against his previous condition of blindness, they are being wound-lickers. They cannot leave the situation alone, but return to it, trying to expose some imagined wrongfulness. These Pharisees do not even realize that the wound they are re-opening is the gaping hole of their own ignorance and spiritual bankruptcy. Double Ouch!

Goodness-sakers

Remember the old saw about the mother who had to leave her two young children alone in the house for a few minutes? Before leaving, she sternly ordered the children, "Now don't put beans up your noses while I'm gone!" Left to their own devices it probably would have taken an eternity before those kids would have come up with such a bizarre idea, but since their mother had singled it out as an especially obnoxious act, the children were inspired. Of course, when their mother returned home, she found two children rolling around in pain with beans firmly stuffed up their noses.

There is a distinct category of people who inspire similar kinds of contrary behavior in most of us.  "These" are the "goodness-sakers" - those self-appointed crusaders for the promotion of righteousness. "They" consider themselves - and let all the rest of us know it - to be super-spiritual.  These are people who stand around saying, "For goodness sake, why doesn't somebody do something." Or "For goodness sake, look at what they're doing."  Now - I would NEVER do that.  Truth is I have probably done more hindrance to the Good News than help over the years.  Truly thankful God is not finished with me yet - I hope.  I really do.

Few people can be as infuriating and sin-provoking as goodness-sakers. Smart-aleck remarks and visions of dirty tricks seem to float to the top of our minds all by themselves as we listen to the platitudes and puffed-up piety goodness-sakers blow at us. The Pharisees in John's story haughtily invoke their relationship to Moses as a sign of their spiritual superiority (v. 28).  

The healed man, who had shown great self-control up to this point, is at last driven to jab back at these upright, up-tight self-appointed guardians of do-gooding. As usual with goodness-sakers, however, they don't even get the point of the sarcasm directed their way.  Triple the Ouch!

Arm-Wavers

Thank heaven that besides the nit-pickers, wound-lickers and goodness-sakers there are also arm-wavers. These are the people that celebrate victories and lend support in times of defeat. Arm-wavers hoot and holler when their child's Little League team wins the big game - but they also give great hugs and "it's O.K." looks when the team loses 10 in a row. It's not that arm-wavers don't see all the imperfections in that hand-knit size 98 sweater or in life. It's just that they focus on all the beauty that surrounds the flaws instead of the flaws themselves.

It is amazing how arm-wavers are absent for so long from John's story of the healed blind man. Here is a stunning miracle - a man blind since birth suddenly given sight - and no one celebrates. His neighbors are doubtful, his parents are worried about the religious and legal ramifications, while the Pharisees find the whole episode threatening and foreboding. Not until the healed man himself finally realizes who Jesus is and what his presence means do we get the first sign of arm-waving. Indeed, when Jesus' identity finally sinks in, the man offers a full body-wave - he falls on his knees and worships the "Lord" (verse 38). I am not blind and have not seen nearly enough.  Back to people patrol duty.

Presbyopia

I got caught.  I was holding my cell phone at arm's length like a rancid diaper.  Why do I lean away from the menu with my eyes agape, like the blue-plate special is a cat?  Would you believe I just might have presbyopia?  I know what you are thinking but it is not a religious disease that only Presbyterians catch.  Yes, Presbyterians may come down with it, but Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Lutherans, Muslims, Hindus, and Buddhists are equally susceptible.

I have learned that Presbyopia is a common eyesight problem.  It comes from presby (meaning "elder/older man) and opia meaning "eye" or "having to do with eyesight").  It is the slow deterioration of close-up focus.  I am certainly not an ophthalmologist or optometrist.  My little bit of internet research (now that's reliable right?) tells me that Presbyopia develops when the clear lens of the eye loses its elasticity.  Elasticity changes focus, and focus determines whether I order sirloin steak or shrimp scampi.

 Yes, I got caught.  I was trying to make out the caller ID, and trying to read a menu.  Even with bifocals I hold my reading material like God never gave me elbows.  A few years ago my wife treated her eyes to a laser. 

She now treats her progressive presbyopia with inexpensive reading glasses.  We both juggle not four eyes but six.  She more than me.  She stashes several pairs of cheap readers in all sorts of places - nightstand, office, couch cushions.  But none of them seem to be around when the cell phone rings or it is time to change the channel on the TV.

 There is a treatment for this.  It is a light beam aimed at the ciliary muscles (the lens focusers).  Apparently after five 10-minute sessions and periodic tune-up treatments, patients report that their glasses are obsolete.  In other words, application of light sharpens focus on the world.  Who would have thought?

There is a guy named Bartimaeus in the Bible who has two strikes against him - he is blind, and he is begging.  In Jesus' culture this was a perfect prescription for being overlooked (no pun intended).

As Jesus passes by, Bartimaeus calls out for mercy.  The crowd rebuked him - and attempted to put Bart back in his place on the food chain.  He had persistence and faith told him that this Jesus fellow was his only chance at sight, so he yelled out even louder. Turns out that Bart is the only person in the crowd who could truly see that day.  Jesus heals him and he receives his sight.  Bart knew what I need to hear every day: Application of Light sharpens our focus on the world.

I have presbyopia in more than one way.  I don't see things clearly or spiritually most of the time.  A lot of things are still blurry to me.  I need to sharpen my vision.  I have Baptisopia - others have Methodyopia, Lutheropia and so on.

This week is a time that has been set aside to pray for victims of Human Trafficking and for those who participate in this appalling, disgusting slavery. 

(www.traffickstop.org)  

When life gets fuzzy, I need focused Light.

www.notforsalecampaign.org

The anti-human-trafficking agency Not For Sale reports that there are more than 30 million slaves in the world today.  That's more slaves than were kept at the height of the transatlantic slave trade in the 1800s.  Lest you think this kind of thing only takes place in countries other than the good old US.

http://missionohio.e-quip.net/presentations/show/2968  

My Christian view of God recognizes that every person is made in the image of God.  Life is valuable.  This is certainly an issue that needs more Light application for more focus. The coming of Jesus means Light into dark places (John 1:5).  Bartimaeus knew that day and screamed out in faith and received his sight.  For Bart, there was only one way to get sight: Apply Light to sharpen his focus on the world.

I confess I too often have blurred vision when it comes to issues.  For me and my blurred vision the answer is the same:  "Apply Light."  My prayer is that I will have renewed courage to learn from Bart.  I pray that I will be able to take the lens of Scripture and Light of Christ and apply them to issues that I don't focus on and don't see clearly.  How about you? Join me.

http://freedomringalliance.org/

http://www.weekendofprayer.net

http://truckersagainsttrafficking.org

(I think this website is really cool.  I always wanted to be a trucker)