Finally, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.




These final words of Paul to the Galatians probably refer to scars he had incurred from physical persecution. He was saying, “Don’t call into question my devotion to Jesus, anyone who looks at my back can clearly see my commitment.”

It is interesting to me that the post crucifixion encounters with Jesus reveal the fact that his resurrected form included the marks left by his crucifixion. Jesus wanted his murder wounds left on his body for himself and everyone else to see. It is visible proof of his love for us.

I got a tattoo yesterday. This is a bit uncharacteristic of me. I have no other tattoos or body piercings, and what is left of my graying hair could never be gathered into hip dreadlocks. I am by nature a nerd, and must be reminded by my daughter to keep my shirt untucked and not to wear socks with my sandals.

I got the tattoo for three reasons. First, it expresses my fidelity to Christ. Like a wedding ring or circumcision, it is an outward symbol of a vow or covenant. Second, it marks my long-standing commitment to the poor. The tattoo was done in a garbage community here in Cairo, Egypt - the same community with whom my family stayed in 2002. Finally, it represents my pledge to serve the Church in all her diversity, because it was given to me at a Coptic Christian monastery located in the garbage village. While I am not a Copt (a branch of the Church very much like those in the Eastern Orthodox stream), the Christians here have impressed me greatly as those who love Jesus sacrificially. Many of them wear this tattoo even though it does not help their status in Muslim Egypt. I am committed to loving and serving the wonderfully wild and extremely diverse Bride of Christ, even though I am sometimes grieved by her actions (or inactions) and don’t always find publicly connecting myself to the Church gets me too far in the world’s eyes.

So as long as I live I will bear in my body a physical sign of my commitment to Christ, to the poor, and to the Church.

Cultivating My Most Dreaded Weed


I despise Creeping Charlie (otherwise known as ground ivy). The little purple flowers which occasionally bloom may be pretty, but it is an invasive weed which destroys everything in its path and has ravaged large swaths of our yard.

Last week, as I was at a Benedictine retreat center in town, God directed my attention to the weed. I was talking to him about an event earlier in the month which had sent a bolt of panic through me. In the middle of the night, Janine accidentally stepped on a dog we were taking care of. Both she and the dog cried out, and I sat up in bed in utter terror shouting "What is it? What's wrong!" I was convinced something tragic had happened - perhaps to one of the kids.

It occurred to me that my reaction revealed something broken inside me, a quiet, lurking fear that tragedy waits around a corner. Many comment on my calm (almost sedate) demeanor. But there have been several instances where I have been gripped with sudden terror.

As I walked the Benedictine grounds, holding these events out to God, I felt him directing me to get down on my knees and study this hated weed. Then he spoke to me. "I want you to grow this weed in your flower garden, but do not allow it to take over." It seemed absurd. After years of desperately trying to wipe this weed off of the face of our property, God clearly called me to cultivate it in our garden.

Janine has graciously humored me ... after all, the garden is her handiwork. I suppose both she and I can at least be grateful that God did not instruct me to walk around prophesying naked for three years as he did Isaiah (see Is. 20:2-4). So I have dutifully planted this dreaded weed amongst our beautiful and delicate flowers, and I am reflecting on what God might be saying to me through all this.

Though it is premature to draw any conclusions at this time, I have been thinking about how those things which are broken, bent or out of proportion in our lives, have their place, so long as they are kept within boundaries. Could it be that panic is part of God's beautiful design? How do you keep fear, hatred, anger and such alive without letting them take over?

Disclaimer: These blogs are the words of the writers and do not represent InterVarsity or Urbana. The same is true of any comments which may be posted about any blog entries. Submitted comments may or may not be posted within the blog, at the bloggers' discretion.

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"Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker."

Psalms 95:6 (NIV)

 
 

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Books by Scott Bessenecker:
The New Friars: The Emerging Movement Serving the World's Poor

How to Inherit the Earth - coming in November
coming in November