THE BODY OF CHRIST

The year was 1968, and I was a student at one of several denominational bible colleges; in central Florida.

I was enrolled in a New Testament class, and my professor was a light-hearted English woman named Ruth Breush; (who interestingly enough was married to a light-hearted Australian man named Percy Breusch).

If I live to be a 103, I will never forget one day in particular. Mrs. Breush began the class with, to say the least, an unusual story.

“Last night I had a dream. In the dream I was somehow transported to heaven. And I stood beneath the throne of none other than our Lord Jesus Christ.

His brown eyes were piercing to behold. Every strand of His auburn hair was in place. His countenance was radiant. And then,

… then I looked downward.

And what I saw horrified me. For you see, His chest was sunken. His arms were emaciated. Every rib shown through His parchment skin.

And then it occurred to me.

… The Body of Christ.

While the Head is fine and wonderful to behold, thank you, the Body is unhealthy, and in need of attention.”

Christ’ Body. His believers on earth, at least a great many of them, leave much to be desired.

Fickleness, In-fighting, Temptations, Immaturity, Abject Sin.

As scripture reminds us. “These things ought not to be.”

I have often wondered if I am, by chance, my professor’s last surviving student who has recalled and passed on this story to the generation who will follow after me.

If so, I count it a distinct calling, honor and responsibility to do so.

 by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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THE DISABLED JESUS

Among all of the attributes of the triune God three, in particular, are best known, and most discussed: Omnipotence, Omniscience, and Omnipresence.

All powerful. All knowing. All present.

At least this was true until about two thousand years ago. However, at about that time it all changed. For you see, God suddenly had a new experience. (And you never knew God was capable of having a new experience). He clothed Himself in flesh. He became a man. Of course, He started out as a baby.

I have previously written about our Lord’s decision to limit Himself. However, it occurred to me today that He did much more than limit Himself. From the moment the Holy Spirit made it possible for Jesus to metamorphose into the womb of Mary, He became… disabled. (Yes, He did).

The Disabled Jesus

For you see, from that point forward until today, and forevermore our Lord, Savior and Messiah wore a body, and voluntary surrendered one of His three most important attributes. Omnipresence. You see, if Jesus appeared in your living room at this moment that is the only place He would be.

How, then, would I prove that the King of kings and Lord of lords is disabled? Well, don’t we characterize a person who has lost one or more faculties as “disabled?” If a man rolls up to us in a wheelchair, and cannot use his legs, he is obviously disabled. Jesus has done much the same thing. He has given up one of His faculties so that He might better identify with us, and we with Him.

Pt. 2

Granted, God, the Father and God, the Holy Spirit continue to enjoy Omnipotence, Omniscience and Omnipresence. However, Jesus can no longer be all places at all times, nor even in two or three places at one time, but, rather, only one.

The Disabled Jesus

It was always His plan to be born of a virgin, to walk and talk among “the children of men,” to be hung on a cross, to die for the sins of mankind, to rise from the dead on third day, to ascend into heaven, and we have every reason to believe He will return for His body, the Church, in the not too distant future.

As a result, the writer of Hebrews encourages us with the following words:

“We have not a High Priest who cannot be touched by the feelings of our infirmities, but was in all ways tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us come boldly to the throne of grace that we may receive mercy for our failures, and grace to help in the time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16)

The disabled Jesus IS touched with our trials, troubles, and turmoil since He voluntarily limited Himself, and became disabled for us. And because He chosen to become like us, and over the course of His thirty-three years on earth surrender His glory, and thus far, and forevermore divest Himself of one-third of His most wonderful and amazing attributes, we have been encouraged to walk right up to the throne of His Father, and lay our petitions at His feet!

The Disabled Jesus

I have never heard our Lord referred to as “disabled,” and yet He totally fits the profile for He has put on a body, He has limited Himself, and He has surrendered one of His primary attributes.

The Disabled Jesus

It was just a stray thought which came to me today. I will never think of our Lord Jesus Christ, His life, His mission, and His ultimate fate, and ongoing existence the same way again.

 by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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STARTING THE DOG FOOD DIET AGAIN

Yesterday, I was at my local tractor supply company stores buying a large bag of dog food for my livestock guard dog, and was in the checkout when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog. What did she think I had an elephant? So, since I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Dog Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in hospital last time, but I'd lost 10 pounds before I woke up in intensive care with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pockets with dog nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story).

Horrified, she asked me if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me. I told her no, I stepped off the curb to sniff an Irish Setter's rear end and a car hit me.

I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. I'm now banned from Tractor Supply.

Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of things to say.

Forward this now, (especially) to all your mature friends...... it will be their laugh for the day.

(Anonymous)

SHARING MY BIG GULP WITH ROVER

I drove a big brown UPS delivery truck for twenty years, and was never happier than when I pulled into the local hub for the last time on October 23, 1997. As I coasted into that same old space where I always parked # 59299, along with the great captain of our souls, I might well have uttered,

“It is finished.”

Oddly enough, now two decades into my retirement, I am still delivering packages for “the greatest ship in the shipping business” but only… in my dreams. For at least once a month, in that ethereal nether world we call sleep, I find myself with a few packages whose addresses I don’t recognize; and running desperately late.

Years earlier, as a matter of fact closer to the beginning, than the ending of my tenure, my route included both businesses and residences in one quadrant of a small city, And several times a month my deliveries included street numbers on 5th Street, SE. I can tell you that 5th Street, SE was very much like any other street in "Winter Haven," (the location of the famous "Cypress Gardens,") with one exception.

… a pesky, non-descript dog which chased my truck every time I rolled past the house, (or more succinctly, the yard) in which he resided.

And I can tell you, I wearied of my frequent confrontation with the little mongrel. To my credit, however, I did not run the beast into the ground, as a truck driver once did my own dog. Nevertheless, I formulated a plan of attack.

There just happened to be a 7-11 located near the infamous site of my all-too frequent encounters with “Rover.” And on a particular day when I was scheduled to deliver a couple of packages “on the street where he lived” I pulled into the parking lot of that convenience store, hopped down the steps of my vehicle, walked into the door, stepped up to the beverage machine, pulled a “Big Gulp” cup from the holder, placed it under the ice dispenser, and finally, filled it to the brim with syrupy, brown Coca-Cola.

Returning to my truck, I hopped back up the steps from whence I came, sat down, buckled my seat belt, started the engine, and aimed my truck towards my next destination. I suppose if I’d given my mission a code name, it might well have been

… Destination Dog

As I approached my little friend’s grassy hangout, I saw him rush into the road, and suddenly he was “neck and neck” with the front tire of my truck. However, unlike dozens of those previous animate/inanimate races which had transpired in the past, this time, rather than applying the gas, I applied the brake, turned off the ignition, grabbed the Big Gulp, rushed down the steps, chased down old Rover, and

… poured that nice, brown, syrupy mess all over the poor pooch!

And never so much as looking back, I retraced my path to the truck, hopped up the steps, mounted the driver’s seat, strapped the seat belt around me, turned on the ignition, and drove away; leaving the hapless critter “to his own devices.”

Needless to say, dear readers, old Rover never chased # 59299 again.

(And I think I know why)!

Post-Script - Speaking of dreaming UPS dreams...

Last night after I finished writing the previous article, I walked into my dark bedroom, reached into a laundry basket which contains several dozen pair of socks of various types and colors, blindly grabbed a pair, and slipped them on. Only to wake up a few minutes ago and discover I was wearing the one remaining pair of UPS monogrammed socks which remain from that era so long ago.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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FLOWERS FOR BUDDY

As I was preparing to write this story, (and as I often do) I went to the internet, and brought up a series of articles related to my topic.

In this case wild violets.

And as I googled the subject of my quest, the first item at the top of the list was,

“How to get rid of wild violets in your yard.”

And I thought,

“Why would I want to get rid of them?”

(and)

“I happen to like them.”

(and)

“I happen to like them a lot.”

I mean, I purposely mow around a 2x2 foot clump of the little things in my back yard.

Of course, as you might expect, there’s more to the story, and for anyone who is a fan of my blogs, you may remember my having written about the topic before.

Yesterday, as I stepped outside to survey my woodsy quarter acre, I glanced to my right and noticed a tiny clump of lovely wild violets were in bloom. Twelve or fifteen of the small purple blossoms greeted my eyes; held up by rich green leafy shoots.

And, as always, I paused to reflect on a precious little Shih Tzu named, ‘Buddy’ which I was privileged to know and love for the space of a decade.

And as I have inferred in the past, when she left us, (Yes, ‘Buddy’ was a her) I installed a circular decorative tile on this spot to commemorate her.

For it was here that our precious pooch so often resorted to “take in the rays.

Pt. 2

Perhaps I have chosen to “read more into it,” but I am convinced that the proximity of the wild violets to the place Buddy loved the best is no coincidence or mistake. I believe it was an “on purpose” sorta thing which has its roots with Providence, and was (drum roll) planned before the earth was breathed into being.

I know that’s “saying a lot” and I realize it’s a lot to take in, but I’m convinced that Buddy was simply worth it, and that our Lord was thinking of her

…before He made the worlds.

I mean, I’ve written about my little Buddy before, and without going into great detail again suffice it to say that I think my precious pooch fulfilled her mission on this earth; whereas many human beings never do.

There was a time when her incessant barking caused a would-be burglar to flee. There was a time when she refused to leave my daughter’s side when she was grieving the loss of a marriage. There was a time when she followed my wife around the house, ‘til she submitted to a physical exam by which a malignant tumor was detected early, and she has been allowed to live out a long and productive life.

Yes, my Buddy was worth it, and I think our Lord agreed with me before I ever knew the bless-ed creature.

There is a particular verse in the Book of Psalms which provides some evidence of the Creator’s love and affirmation for both his human and animal creations, and His promise that I will see my Buddy again one day.

Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep. You, LORD, preserve both people and animals. (Psalm 36:6)

Afterward

No, I don’t believe the presence of those lovely wild violets, next to that circular decorative tile in my backyard, is a coincidence or mistake. I will always think of this place as a Providential tribute to one of His wonderful little creations named Buddy.

I like to think of that wild, uncultivated patch of purple blossoms as God’s own memorial for a life well lived, and for a creature He loved more than I ever could.

by Rev. William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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DYING TO SELF

When you are forgotten, neglected, or purposely set at naught, and you don't sting or hurt with the oversight, but your heart is happy being counted worthy to suffer for Christ,

That is dying to self.

When your good is evil spoken of, when your wishes are crossed, your advice disregarded, your opinion ridiculed, and you refuse to let anger rise in your heart or even defend yourself, but take it all in patient, loving silence,

That is dying to self.

When you lovingly and patiently bear any disorder, any irregularity, any annoyance; when you can stand face to face with waste, folly, extravagance, spiritual insensibility, and endure it as Jesus did,

That is dying to self.

When you are content with any food, and offering, any raiment, any climate, any society, any solitude, any interruption by the will of God,

That is dying to self.

When you never care to refer to yourself in conversation or record your own good works or itch after commendation, when you can truly love to be unknown,

That is dying to self.

When you can see your brother prosper and have his needs met, and can honestly rejoice with him in spirit and feel no envy, nor question God, while your own needs are far greater and you are in desperate circumstances,

That is dying to self.

When you can receive correction and reproof from one of less stature than yourself and can humbly submit, inwardly as well as outwardly, finding no rebellion or resentment rising up within your heart, 

That is dying to self.

PAUL. APOSTLE & FRIEND

I recently completed paraphrasing the entire New Testament. However, long before I completed that tedious, but personally rewarding effort, I paraphrased the Book of Philippians. And by the time I finished writing, it was as though I had been given the opportunity to walk into that Roman prison, and sit down next to the man, and experience the darkness of the place, and the chains and the awfulness which he endured.

And yet if anyone ever came close to dying to self, other than the Savior, I think Paul did. In this epistle he was all about his concern for others, and he could not quit talking about the joy which filled him up, and gushed forth like a stream to envelope everyone around him; whether they meant him well or ill.

What a marvelous man Paul was. I will always think of him as my friend.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending