Guidance from Overlooked Men and Women of the Bible

Category: Travel (Page 2 of 23)

On Skulls and Golden Shields

Solomon, at the height of his splendor, commissioned the casting of golden shields to hang in his royal palace. One generation later, the king of Egypt swept into Judah and looted Jerusalem, carrying off the shields as booty.

The Lord allowed the Egyptians to invade because the people abandoned the law of the Lord. The Lord made them subject to the foreign king, so that they may learn the difference between serving me and serving the kings of other lands.

One difference quickly noted—the kings of other lands carry off your golden shields.

I once saw a painting in the National Gallery of London, commissioned by Henry VIII (he of many wives), titled The Ambassadors. Oddly, the artist added a distorted skull at the bottom of the painting. It’s an example of an anamorphic, an image which can only be clearly viewed from a side perspective. The story goes that Henry hung the painting in a stairwell. There he saw the skull as he passed, a daily reminder of his mortality.

Rehoboam, the king of Judah, made bronze shields to replace the golden ones, and gave them to his palace guards. Like Henry’s skull, the shields served as symbols of mortality. Every day as the men carrying the new shields marched past, Rehoboam mourned the loss of his treasure and understood his dependence on the Lord.

The kings of the earth belong to God; he is greatly exalted (Psalm 47:9).

While I don’t possess any golden shields, or even paintings of skulls, I do possess many, many good things. For these I’m grateful, and hope to retain a bit of humility, knowing that all good things come from the hand of our gracious God.

2 Chronicles 12 in week twenty-eight of reading the Bible cover to cover

The Ambassadors (1533) by Hans Holbein the Younger.

I Should Be Walking the Camino de Santiago

This week Dawn and I and a group of friends planned to be in Northern Spain, walking the Camino de Santiago. But due to Covid, we cancelled our trip months ago. I love the Camino – I’m grieving the loss.

But, like Jacob waited for Rachel (though hopefully not for seven years), I wait for another time on the Camino. We will try again next year. In the meantime, I’ll take long walks and dream of what will be.

If you’d like to know more about our trip in 2021, visit the Camino de Santiago website. Registration for next year is coming soon!

The Calling of Saint Matthew

The Calling of Saint Matthew by Caravaggio (1599-1600)

Jesus saw a man named Matthew at his seat in the custom house, and said to him, “Follow me”, and Matthew rose and followed Him.

Matthew 9:9

Jesus spears Matthew with a beam of light as he enters the room, brightness flooding a dark place of fraudulently obtained money and collusion. The beacon illumines Matthew’s face as he quizzically points to his chest as if to ask, “You’re calling me? Seriously?”

I’ve been looking all winter at a print of this painting I hung by my desk after experiencing the original in Rome. Standing in the dim light, gazing up at the huge canvas, my heart stirred hearing how Carravaggio’s work motivated my friend Brian, one of Agape’s (Cru) national directors in Italy, to follow the Lord’s call to that country. Many, many people have stood in that same spot and found inspiration in Carravaggio’s representation of Matthew’s calling since it was first hung in the church San Luigi dei Francesi in 1600.

So much to notice. Jesus’s hand pointing to Matthew, just like the hand of God reaching out to Adam in the Sistine Chapel. Jesus’s bare feet, contrasted with the stylish clothes worn by the tax collectors. The young man with his head down, focused on the money in front of him, oblivious to the divine light.

Jesus called Matthew. Matthew was not worthy. None of us would have picked him. Yet Matthew helped found the Christian faith, penned the gospel bearing his name and died as a martyr for his devotion to Jesus.

Jesus called us. We were not worthy. Yet Jesus picked us. That beam of light pierced us at some point, and we pointed to our chests and said, “Who, me?” Let’s ask the Lord for a bit of the courage and faith of Matthew, and build on the legacy of this tax collector and sinner turned evangelist and saint.

The Master’s Completed Work

Picture credit goes to my friend Nicole – thank you!

In a museum in Florence, Italy, you can look upon and marvel at Michelangelo’s David, one of the great sculptures in the world. You can walk all around the statue and inspect it from every angle. But a different view, a fuller view, emerges from the entry hall.

The passage to The David is filled with unfinished statues by Michelangelo. Half-formed people emerge from gigantic blocks of marble, unable to fully escape their captivity. Michelangelo carved images from the front backwards, freeing the creatures he pictured in his mind from the blocks of stone. As you walk slowly toward the David, you get the sense of living beings emerging all around you.

Which brings to mind the Lord’s work in our lives. We are not yet finished, like The David, but we exist similar to those statues enduring in a roughhewn state. Thankfully, the Lord does not leave us incomplete, but continues to chip away at those areas in our lives we no longer need. The Master works steadily, creating the final masterpiece he envisions you and me to be.

As you feel the hammer and the chisel at work in your life, always in uncomfortable ways, remember this: He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:6).

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