Jesus For Twilight Fans

When I was little I used to get bloody noses every day. The ladies in the office at my elementary school always knew what I was there for, and I didn’t even have to say anything when I walked in. They’d just motion me to the back. In a way I felt special because these authority figures knew me by name, and I always had a place next to the trash can right outside the Mr. Micula’s office (the principal). And, you know… I didn’t necessarily object to getting to leave class every day. And when I came back, I secretly hoped that my crush of 2 straight years, Marliese Sharp, had been worrying about me the whole time. Though in reality, I probably ruined any chance I had with her the day I accidentally farted out loud while the whole class was silently watching a film about Abe Lincoln. Oops…

The reason why blood is usually a cause for concern is because it’s our lifeline. We’re not supposed to lose too much of it. Blood keeps everything working right. It supplies the oxygen we need to keep breathing. It circulates white cells that protect us from sickness. It aides the body in repairing itself. Without blood we are just lifeless meat and bones.

I went on a solitude retreat with a bunch of friends of mine recently (we had our own rooms so I'm not totally contradicting myself), and spent most of my time reading through the laws in Deuteronomy. This one in particular struck me:

Deut: 12:23-24 – But be sure you do not eat the blood, because the blood is the life, and you must not eat the life with the meat. You must not eat the blood; pour it out on the ground like water.

There are a lot of weird rules in the Old Testament. Like “Do not cut the hair at the sides of your head or clip off the edges of your beard” (lev. 19:27)

Or this one clearly written for me in my early years at art school, Deuteronomy 22:5 – “A woman must not wear men’s clothing, nor a man wear women’s clothing…” I guess it’s a good thing that screamo music wasn’t around in those days, otherwise some of those boys in girl’s pants and tight shirts would be in trouble.

But the thing to remember is that God is not just pulling these laws out of a hat. They’re there for a reason, and they all point to what’s to come. God is pointing to Jesus when he talks about how Jews were to eat meat. The blood was the life of the meat! They could eat the lifeless tissue, but they weren’t to eat the part that gave life to the meat.

When Jesus died, he didn’t just die a quick and easy death. He didn’t pass in his sleep or anything. He shed innocent blood, painfully, once and for all, so that we could be forgiven for the death that we deserve according to the Apostle Paul in Romans. “For the wages of sin is death…” (Romans 6:23

Without Jesus, we are dead meat. Literally.

We are worthless and lifeless without the Blood.

The life Jesus lived was perfect and blameless. He was fully human, and fully God. He did everything right, and died as though he did everything wrong. He took our place on the Cross so that we could live forever in Heaven in communion with the One True God who is so big and powerful that no man can lay eyes on Him without dropping dead.

And here’s the thing: This Life calls us by name. He is the One Authority who knows us intimately, and reserves an undeserved place for us in the God’s Kingdom.

Crazy…

Some Christians will say that the Old Testament is irrelevant because Jesus makes the Jewish Laws no longer necessary to follow. But the New Testament doesn’t “replace” the Old, it completes it. We can’t fully comprehend the new without understanding the old.

And in case you were worried, I don’t get bloody noses anymore except for once in a while. Though recently I got one in the middle of church, and it made me remember why I don’t like sitting in the middle of the row.


~John Azoni

"Keep your hoes off our block"

A local resident posted these signs on their fence. The struggle continues.
image via Hamtramck Star

effect my affect

I was going through Darcie's music library the other day, and I came across a bunch of old school dc talk songs. Now, when I say old school, I mean pre-jesus-is-just-alright dc talk. Nu thang dct in tha house boooiiiiiiii. I didn't actually listen to any of it, but the titles stuck in my head like some things seem to do in the strangest ways - only to return to the forefront of my mind at an even stranger time.

I've been struggling lately with discipline. Well, either I've been struggling with it, or I'm just suddenly more aware of the importance of it... thus spotlighting something that's underdeveloped. God seems to do this to me from time to time - mostly because He knows that I can only handle one thing at a time. I don't know how I'd survive if, all at once, I realized how many truly important life issues there were that I needed to sort out.

"One at a time" God says

"At the perfect time"

I believe that perfection can only be seen perfectly in hindsight, because we never fully realize at any given present moment the importance that something perfect can/will have on the future. When we put our faith in God's timing, we surrender our definition of perfection. I get caught up so often in predicting some new form of perfection - trying to figure out where God's going with whatever's going on in my life.

"God's Perfect Plan For My Life"

Have you ever read a really intense paragraph of a book? The tension to know what happens next can be so unbearable! I often find that my eyes want nothing to do with it. They skip ahead 3 or 4 lines from where my brain is, and scan for key words that will put an end to the unresolved confrontation. Then, like a cheating schoolboy, they whisper the answer to my brain before it has a chance to absorb the importance of those lines leading up to the climax. There's a poetry that's stolen when this happens, and I'm always disappointed in the end - knowing that it could have been better.

"That's not the way the author wanted me to read it"

Life has always been described in many such ways... As a book, as a song, as a symphony, as a poem. Unfortunately, those descriptions usually follow with fingers pointing to ourselves as the author, composer, and poet.

"We're in charge of our destinies... We write our own stories... We must lie in the beds we make"

The thing is, these are all true statements. Because we do have control... We control our decisions, but we have no control over the outcomes.

It's the difference between affect and effect. I've been praying lately that God would effect my affects, and I've been focusing on affecting my own life positively and letting God focus on the effects.

Translation: I'm not jumping ahead of my own story 3 or 4 lines.

So after living in a discipleship house for a month... looking back... Perfection has been rewritten once again.

"ya know He's doin it... God is doin a nu thang"

Ethan
(the guy who says Phil Collins defeats the need for sleeping pills)

Sad week to be an American, or a mouse.

Just getting started

I’m trying to find a good place to run in Hamtramck, MI. And when I say a “good place to run,” I actually mean a “safe place to run.” I have this crazy fear that if I just wing it, I’ll unknowingly turn down a wrong street and be confronted by a murderous gang - a murderous gang that specifically targets really tall white runners who wear black headbands and blue shorts.

I’m not sure what their gang sign would be… Probably something involving a middle finger, since it’s the tallest finger.

They’d be like, “Hey tall white running guy with the black headband and blue shorts!”

And I’d look down at my shorts first and then check behind me to make sure there wasn’t someone else running nearby (it’s pretty embarrassing to respond to a gang and then realize they weren’t talking to you).

“Yeah?” I’d say

And then they would shoot me before even letting me defend myself with statistics on my genetic disposition and the “smell test” used to choose which clothes I wore that day.

I’ve been living here a little over two weeks, and I still don’t know what streets to avoid.

Actually… Scratch that… I know to avoid the street in front of our house on Thursdays for street sweeping. A $20 ticket taught me that little golden nugget lesson last week. If only violent criminals adopted such a policy, I’d know the streets inside and out by now. Alas, they charge the fee of a human life (or sometimes just an individual’s dignity, but those are like special discount days that only happen around Christmas and the 4th of July).

Venus, our pit-bull, is one of the most fascinating dogs I’ve ever come in contact with. I’m used to dogs with words like “golden”, “miniature” and “chocolate” attached to their breed name. These are the types of dogs that are starved for love and affection. They want to be near you. They want you to pet them, throw them a ball, buy them cute doggie treats that look like human foods, etc.

Venus wants none of that. She has a tail, but I honest to God have never seen it wagged. She limps from a prior injury, doesn’t beg for anything, and actually MOVES to a different spot if you start petting her! She’ll give you a look like, “what the hell are you doing, you weirdo?” stagger to a different spot, lie down, and then glance back again at you with additional disdain to seal her point. She doesn’t want love and affection, she just wants respect. James (Venus’ owner) just told me that there have been a few people whom he lived with that did not respect her. The result? Venus crapped in their rooms (once, right on the guy’s pillow).

“You don’t respect me? How bout I take a dump on your pillow and then let’s see how much you respect me!” (This must be said with a NY accent for full effect)

When Venus sleeps (20 hours a day, at least), she snores quite loudly. She dreams frequently, with the muscle spasms all over her body narrating the story of a dog finally free from all the stupid human petters. She wakes up the same way I do when I have the dream about winning the lottery – forcing myself back to sleep in hopes of having a less exciting dream to wake up out of. I try to help her out by petting her when she sleeps.

I’m just glad we have a good guard dog.

Now if only I could get her to go running with me… And wear a black headband and blue shorts.

Ethan
(the guy who says that the heat index and the wind chill factor are tools of the pharmaceutical companies pushing crazy pills)

A Lesson from Year One at the Hamhouse

Year 1 Recap (John Azoni)