Genesis 5

Genesis 5 is a rip-roaring genealogical account, but it is only an inkling of the no-holds-barred party to be had in the initial chapters of 1 Chronicles. Especially notable is how positively ancient some of these guys were (and it's always guys here; as in much of human history, the poor women get the short end of the stick). Did telomeres shorten at a slower rate back then? If you live to be 969 years old, how much of that time are you virile and lucid? I'm going to forbear from making old people jokes, because God knows the elderly suffer enough disrespect as is. But just think: if people still lived that long, the oldest person today could have been at the Battle of Hastings. The NIV study Bible notes that the ages might have been symbolic--a nifty technique for literary and theological purposes, but obfuscatory to those of us wanting literal facts.

The common refrain in this chapter is, "and then he died." Kind of depressing that your whole 900-year life, with all your experiences, moments of elation, heartbreak, struggle--the vicissitudes of personal humanity--will, in worldly terms, mean nothing. Mahalalel is just a fellow about whom we know next to nothing, except that he might have been miffed at the exoticism of his name and thus decided to give his own son a normal name--Jared--that wouldn't elicit giggles from the other kids on the jungle gym.

All kidding aside (and apologies to Mr. Mahalalel--I actually think it's a genuinely mellifluous moniker), life is transient. We all end up rotting or getting cremated. (Exception: See next paragraph). Mufasa understands this. Yet I admit to thinking that I'll live, well, maybe not forever, but at least for several more decades. Because of that, I often think to myself, "Yeah, it's important for me to follow my dreams and make a difference and all that BS. But I'll do it later. I wanna watch another Blu-ray now." But I could also get hit by a cement mixer tomorrow. Of course, it's equally unhealthy to live in perpetual fear that one is going to experience some bizarre, Final Destination-type mishap. But if I don't start living a Christ-centered life right now, will I ever? Yes, life is transient. But (and I'm sorry if this reeks of pontification) it's also precious.

The other standout of this chapter is Enoch, who is one of only two mortals (Elijah was the other) who didn't die but got taken directly to heaven. It's tempting to wonder what criteria Enoch and Elijah met to receive such special treatment, but that's not the mindset that I think God wants us to have. We shouldn't compare our "righteousness" with others'; our own personal relationship and journey with God, fortified by the support of fellow believers, should remain our focus--advice I myself have to remember to follow. It's not my goal to get taken up into Heaven to the strains of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" (as in the movie This Is the End). But it is my goal to walk faithfully with God, a goal that I will spend the rest of my life striving to achieve.

Genesis 4

God rejected Cain's offering because of Cain's intent, not because of the offering itself. Nowadays, when we offer God our time, money, skills, and other resources to God, few of us hear an explicit, physically audible voice saying, "Dude, your offering sucks. Try again." If we are in true fellowship with God, though, we should probably be able to tell if we're making our offerings with a sincere heart.  I myself sometimes wonder if I'm just going through the motions when I offer my funds and services to God. It's not that I resent doing so--it's just that I often don't approach them prayerfully like I know I should. Part of the problem may be that I've been doing the same tasks for so long that it's become rote. Routine is comfortable, but change can force me to ruminate (but not like a cow or giraffe) on the purpose behind my actions.

The image of sin crouching at one's door in verse 7 is rather horrifying--I know that if I'm not vigilant about maintaining my relationship with God all the time, I can very easily slip up, leading to an unhealthy and ever regressing concatenation of events that I will surely regret. God provides the ultimate joy and peace, but the pleasures of this world, especially those that detract from God, can be so alluring. Now, I don't think God calls us all to be ascetics, giving up all film, literature, art, music, games, sports, and entertainment altogether. (I hate to say this, but the vast majority of Christian films tend to be cheesy, with odd, if not downright poor, aesthetic and narrative qualities). But when it's carried to excess--which I admit to--it can debilitate one's spiritual life by gobbling up time that could be devoted to God.

Cain thinks he can get away with the murder of Abel, but in verse 10, Abel's blood cries out from the earth. If course, God doesn't need to create blubbering blood to tell if someone has been murdered, but it's a vivid, haunting image that reminds drives home the point that God can see everything. So play nice!

Lamech comes off as a watermelon-sized scumbag, as seen in his boast in verses 23 and 24. His arrogance, thinking he can not only usurp God's authority but augment it as well--turning God's curse of seven to an inordinate seventy-seven--establishes a precedent that continues to today. When I try to wrest control from God, thinking I can solve my little peccadilloes on my own, they soon inflate into full-blown spiritual transgressions, hanging over my head like flatulent blimps. Independence is highly-valued in today's society, and in many cases, it's justified. Yet just as I rely on an airplane pilot to fly me safely to my destination because he knows more about planes than I do, I rely on God to guide me spiritually and morally because He is the absolute authority in these areas--among many others, of course.

However, Lamech's line did pioneer husbandry, technology, and music. I don't think anyone's sorry that humans have been able to develop these skills, but they are amoral constructs, capable of being used for  both exemplary good and baleful evil. In the end, I believe that God is vital to keeping us focused on the right path. That doesn't mean that I suddenly, upon conversion, became incapable of making any mistakes or doing any harm. I can't speak for others, but I know that when I focus on God, He gives me tranquility, felicity, and motivation for me to take my thumb out of my anus and accomplish something, no matter how insignificant it may be.

Genesis 3

This is a story I always wanted to see in those Japanese modern-kids-visit-Biblical-times-cartoons like Superbook and Flying House because I wanted to see how creatively the animators covered up the nudity. (Apparently, it wasn't that creative because I don't remember. I do remember that Superbook had a cool effects sequence whenever the kids went back in time, and that the flying house seldom actually flew.)

When the serpent tempts Eve with fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (not the tree of life), she thinks, in verse 6, that it is "good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom." I've given in to temptations that were pleasing on the surface, but I knew that they would indubitably not give me wisdom. Yet I gave in anyway. Snapping at annoying people, "desirable" in that it makes them go away, will not magically increase my IQ or make me feel better, yet I've still done it more often than I'd like to admit. So how much more tempting would a corporeally edifying enticement be for me? Again, a reminder of how much I need God.

In verse 8, I like the image of of God "walking in the garden in the cool of the day." God can chill and enjoy Himself too can't He? It's a remarkably relatable and humanizing image before Jesus even enters the human story. The idea that Adam and Eve attempt to hide from God seems silly until you realize that many--including Christians like me--try to hide from God today. When I'm about to do something I know I wouldn't want on my C.V., I "hide" from God and attempt to avoid chagrin. It feels like if I can distance myself, then I won't have to face God's disappointment/displeasure/heartache. But because God is much less of an overt presence today, it does seem easier to evade Him. I've never had God talk to me as explicitly as He did to Adam and Eve, yet if He did, I would probably still end up disobeying by relying on my own strength.

Adam doesn't even name Eve until verse 20, only after they've both screwed up. Nice, Adam.

In verse 22, God says, "The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take from the tree of life and eat, and live forever." At first glance, this makes God look awfully jealous and petty (though as we'll learn later, God is a jealous God--but not jealous in the way we are). But sin has entered into the human heart; we know good and evil, but that doesn't mean we will always choose to do good. And who wants an immortal, sinful being? In fact, we get hints at how such beings might conceivably act in the stories from just about every other religion with deities. Egyptian, Greek, and Norse myths spring to mind first; all the gods are pretty much immortal yet fallible humans with superpowers. They make for great entertainment and apt templates for today's superhero comics and films, but such all-powerful despots, nincompoops, and thugs would be pretty horrifying in real life.

God, being all-good, can't tolerate sin, and thus Adam and Eve had to face His judgment. But His love and grace still allowed for humans to live off the resources of the land and launch a species that now exceeds seven billion souls. Yes these were just precursors for the ultimate solution that was yet to come: Jesus.

Genesis 2

As God rested on the seventh day, so too did He, in the Ten Commandments, instruct humans to rest on the Sabbath. In our work-obsessed culture, rest is often seen as indolent, a waste of time and productivity. As for me, I have no trouble with resting if it involves wasting time. But God used the day of rest to reflect upon and admire His creation. Thus, the rest of a Christian should be Christ-focused. When I rest, I just want to loaf around, read, listen to music, or watch a movie, so I've still got ample room to improve.

I like how in verse 12, the author makes a parenthetical aside about the fascinating geological resources of Havilah. Not only is there gold, there's resin and onyx (or is it Onix?) as well. And it's not just your everyday, prosaic gold--it's great gold. Make sure you memorize that verse for Sunday school, kids!

Now that I've gotten the flippancy over with, I'll come to the verse that struck me. Verse 18 says, "The LORD God said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.'" I've always fancied myself a solitary fellow; for most of my time as a student, I didn't interact with a whole lot of people and never felt particularly depressed. An intensely shy person, I never initiated conversations and, for the most part, no one did likewise with me. I was never bullied, but, to quote Tim Burton, "It was as if I was exuding an aura that said, 'Leave Me The F*** Alone'" (Salisbury, 2). Which I was fine with; it wasn't until I graduated from college that I started thinking, "Hmm. Maybe it would be good for me to interact with people outside of my own family."

The details of that journey are too personal (and, frankly, too soporific) to put in a public post such as this, but as the Incredibles know, no man is an island. I haven't had any interactions that I would call truly cathartic--if only it were as easy as Robin Williams saying, "It's not your fault to you" ad infinitum. But at the very least, sharing experiences--many of them humorous--with friends has opened my eyes to how much I need to socialize, draining and daunting as it may be at times.

Maybe some people can live their whole lives as hermits, content not to interact with anyone. But God has slowly, inexorably led me out of my comfortable little nest into having conversations with others that at least approach normalcy on my part. In fact, as I look back, I'm amazed at how God has maneuvered me into positions and jobs that have forced me to talk to other people and actually derive enjoyment from them at times. It's definitely not the path I would have chosen for myself--I would be content with a job that just required me to write without interacting with anyone. Yet would I have developed these essential life skills if I had found a job that allowed such complacency on my part?

God is the master of the unexpected plot twists of life. But unlike the twists of M. Night Shyamalan, God's are edifying and actually make sense.

Works Cited:
Salisbury, Mark. Burton on Burton. Revised ed. London: Faber and Faber Limited, 2006.

Genesis 1

In the immortal words of Oscar Hammerstein II, "Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start." (I love The Sound of Music, but those lyrics are either alarmingly vapid or so deliberately and ironically vacuous as to be deviously brilliant. Then again, the main body of that marvelous song is basically one stanza over and over with one additional line as counterpoint.)

God created man and woman in His image (v. 27). This passage is particularly apposite to some of the current issues I'm wrestling with. If we are created in God's image, representing Him as His agents on Earth, aren't we supposed to reflect Him in character and attitude? I know I don't--far from it, in fact. I am in need of God's loving grace, because otherwise, my attitude tends to stink.

I can be self-deprecating to a fault, easy to acknowledge my weaknesses. I suck at math. A kindergartener would look at my drawing and visual artistry skills with mirthful disdain. My few sad attempts at poetry fail to rise above the jejune. I probably have the worst grip on the planet--I just cannot open Gatorade bottles without using one of those rubber cap opener things. (Probably doesn't help that I always have sweaty hands at the time, because who wants Gatorade when you haven't been exercising?) So even if I don't always put my trust in God, allowing Him to be strong where I'm weak, I do acknowledge my weak points. I think my problem is when I rely on that weakness instead of God, which is when it all goes to crap.

That's kind of a big tangent--I suspect that's also going to become a regular feature of these posts. Anyway, in verse 2, we have the wonderfully evocative image of God hovering over the waters. Now, this is before He says, "Let there be light," so a human wouldn't have been able to actually see anything, (or breathe, probably) but imagine--an omnipresent, omniscient, loving presence just waiting, suspended over an expansive seascape. Existing, but unseen. (Remember what I wrote about my poetry skills earlier?) And that God, who in that moment is alone (or maybe angels existed at this point--I'm obviously no Biblical scholar) and about to unleash his sublime powers of creation to bring this world into existence--He wants to have a personal relationship with me?

Inconceivable!

Well, God, unlike our poor friend Vizzini, clearly did conceive such a notion. I am utterly undeserving, yet He still loves me, you, and everyone else.

Rebirth

Why wait?

That's a question that's been in the back of my mind for most of my life, one that I've always pushed away. Life is short, so why wait?

Why wait to use my talents at writing (comparatively meager as they may be) instead of spending hours reading badly written, asinine YouTube and Disqus comments? Why wait to write those soundtrack reviews I've promised myself I'd write for close to four years now? Why wait to read Game of Thrones when it's been sitting in my room for months, and why wait to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer when it's readily available on Netflix (though with my luck, the show's probably expired by now)?

Most importantly, why wait to reestablish my relationship with God, a relationship that has stagnated and, indeed, backslid over the past few years? "I'll do it later," I keep telling myself. To which God, in effect, replies, "Well, if that's your attitude, Buster, 'later' will never come." (Prime lyrics for a James Bond song).

I've distanced myself from God for the past few years, going through the motions to make it look like nothing's wrong. Though I've yet to undergo a crisis of faith--I've never stopped believing that God exists in some capacity--I've been pushing Him away and, for reasons I'm still coming to terms with, resisted coming back to Him.

More than anything else, I've taken Jesus' ultimate sacrifice for granted. Not just taken for granted--I may as well have outright spat in His face. The enormity (in the true sense of the word) of that action has yet to fully strike me, but God has allowed just a minuscule, devastating sliver--a hint of how my offense makes Him and His feel--bring me to my knees.

I am far from fully healed--just a few days ago, I snapped at someone with an annoyance bordering on vituperative. Having heard the testimonies of fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, I fully expect to continue struggling until I croak. Whether I overcome said struggles, God's plan will prevail, with or without me. But if I call myself a Christian, do I really want to live my life as though Jesus means nothing to me? Or do I trust in Him, allowing Him to provide strength in my weakness, serving as His hands and feet?

Which brings me to the point of all this (to quote Gehn from the seminal computer game Riven, and yes, I realize I'm as periphrastic as he is). To serve as an instrument of God in the earthly realm, I first need to bolster my spiritual life. As one of those steps, I will strive to read a chapter of the Bible a day and write my reflections. (Leviticus will be a real hoot to write about, as will the first few chapters of Numbers and 1 Chronicles). Thus, this blog will be reborn, devoted to faith-based ramblings. (Writing on films, soundtracks, and other media will be hosted on the Soundtrack Mantis blog from now on.) Now, I'm not a Biblical scholar, nor do I boast of having any Earth-shattering insights. In fact, the posts will probably be haphazard and possibly scatterbrained. In addition, the irreverence that subtly (and, at times, not so subtly) imbues my writing at times may offend those whose sense of humor runs counter to mine, but Jesus' love, grace, and sacrificial death on the cross I will always take seriously.

I believe this is something God has laid on my heart. Yes, I enjoy writing, but it still takes hard work, discipline, and a rather dismaying amount of time. Yet considering how much of my free time I've wasted for the past couple decades, producing content, even if it benefits and spiritually edifies only me, seems like a worthwhile investment.