Uncategorized – Page 3 – A Work in Progress

Haters Gonna Hate

People love their causes. Every time you turn on the news, someone is protesting something, and that’s cool. You get to make a sign, and scream slogans. Maybe you get on TV, or even sleep in a tent in a park and miss a few days of work. And you can say “I was there.”

I just feel like people’s love of a protest is in a sense jumping the shark, as the saying goes. What may have been an effective way to draw attention to a cause at first has now become more about drawing attention to the protestor, in many cases.

I think now, it has become commonplace to try and suppress opinions we don’t agree with. While it happens with both conservative and liberal groups of people, of late the avalanche of protests appears to skew toward the left.

Because conservatism is hopelessly archaic and no longer useful to what has become a more progressive and certainly more liberal world.

I just feel like if we are not careful, protesting is going to go the way of occupying and class action lawsuits.

Something that was once (and still can be) effective is going to become a joke, and make our country a joke.

Effective protest:

Now, it’s a little more like:

It doesn’t have to be.

How Do We Stop This?

At first I had no plans to address the topic of guns and gun control. It’s an extremely volatile and polarizing topic, but also because most of the people I know here have a pretty good idea how I feel anyway.

Then the Aurora movie theater shooting happened, and more recently the Clackamas mall shooting and of course the murder of twenty first graders and six adults in Newtown, Connecticut. I knew there would be a public outcry regarding guns and gun ownership, as if the guns themselves did the killing.

I felt compelled to address a few points, and people can make what they want of it.

The debate is nothing new, after all. People have been talking about gun control probably ever since there have been guns. For crying out loud, you used to have to leave your sidearm with the saloonkeeper while you were drinking and playing cards. Of course, they’d give it back to you when you left…

To my knowledge, it has also always been legal for United States citizens to own firearms. The second amendment to the constitution was adopted in 1791, along with the rest of the bill of rights. The second amendment has long been the rallying cry for gun enthusiasts as it grants them the right to “keep and bear arms.”

Gun control enthusiasts, on the other hand, have often pointed to this section with a little more detail:

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed

They make the point that there is no longer much call for a “well regulated militia” as our all volunteer armed forces and various law enforcement agencies take care of armed protection. Consequently, people also no longer need firearms to protect themselves at a local level.

I understand their point, and I get that the makers of the constitution were just coming off a war where the “well regulated militia” is what made the difference. These were men with little military experience and often not much training who were willing to put down their plows and pitchforks and take up the musket to ensure their basic human freedoms.

In 2008, the Supreme Court held that the individual had the right to possess a firearm for traditionally lawful purposes in federal enclaves, such as one’s home. This decision took the militia argument out of the equation.

It’s easy to understand the concerns of people regarding firearms, given the terrible acts of violence visited upon our country and others. The Norway massacre comes to mind, as well as shootings in Scotland and Israel over the past 10-15 years.

I get it, I really do. I will even admit that some sort of measures need to be taken to ensure massacres like what happened last week do not become commonplace, though I fear that is where we are headed. Yet I do not believe taking away people’s right to protect their homes and families is the way to make that happen.

It would seem, though, some sort of restrictions as to which weapons and how many of them are available to people might be in order. It’s difficult to understand why a citizen looking to protect themselves would need something like an assault weapon with a potential capacity for more than 100 rounds, semi-auto or otherwise.

Actually, it’s hard to understand why anyone would need an assault weapon at all, excepting military service or zombie apocalypse. Yet, I know people who are avid collectors and have several of them. These men and women are not the people we generally need to worry about.

Legislation only works if people allow themselves to be subject to it. Therefore even if some sort of…all encompassing ban of firearms was to take place, it would only be as effective as the people who obeyed it. And the truth is, if someone is willing to swap their lives for a killing, even if they do not have a firearm they can do a great deal of harm (such as the OKC Federal building a while back).

Of course, there’s also the fact you can’t really enforce legislation directed toward gun-wielding criminals, as well as psycho or sociopaths who might use their weapons for an other than lawful purpose. Also, I don’t think anyone could argue the individuals perpetrating these horrible crimes likely have some moderate to serious issues with mental illness.

The other thing to consider is that while it is people and not guns that kill, it is also hard to argue we’ve created a culture where violence is commonplace and life has so little meaning it has become almost almost arbitrary. Lives are legally ended before they even begin, and the entertainment industry sells violence to our children in shiny and appealing packages so that nothing is shocking anymore.

The dialog may begin with gun control, but it certainly does not end there. It is much more complicated than that. Consider this: People have also been saying gun owners who have firearms to protect their homes are more likely to hurt themselves than any intruder. This is patently false. Of course, it is much less sensational and interesting for the media to report when this sort of thing actually happens, so they often do not report it at all. Take the Clackamas shooting, for instance. A young man legally carrying concealed drew his weapon and faced the shooter, ultimately forcing him into a stairwell where he took his own life.

I believe the truth is that the only thing that stops a bad person with a gun is a good person with a gun. Also that the bad people will always be armed, and do not live by the same rules as the rest of us.

I am a gun owner, and both weapons I have are small caliber. I got them to shoot at targets, not burglars. But I do have them, and I would rather have them than not. If the choice was between using them and harm to my family or anyone, really, I would use them without regret. I would put a hundred bullets into a person intending harm to a child before I would allow them to carry out their intentions.

My weapons are kept safe, and away from my kids. In any case, I know I haven’t answered any questions with this big pile of letters, but I felt the need to address a certain demographic of folks who understand neither guns, nor gun owners.

I have the legal right to possess a firearm, without being a member of a well regulated militia. Those people do, too. Whether or not they choose to exercise it is their affair. Yet I would submit that trying to enforce any sort of blanket restriction is stupid, and very similar to what the country had fought against when the constitution was drafted in the first place.

I will also acknowledge that certain points within the “gun control debate” do need to be addressed. I don’t know what the answers are, but I believe a healthy discourse between all parties is a start.

Some potential topics?

1. Assault weapons, both automatic and semi-auto.

a. Who can have them?

b. Are they needed in the private sector?

c. What for?

2. Round capacity for magazines.

a. What is needed?

b. What is enough?

c. Is anyone going to shoot a deer more than once or twice?

3. What is the criteria for whether or not a person can purchase a gun of any sort? Should there be criteria?

4. What are the repercussions if a gun is used to defend a home? Are “stand your ground” laws the answer?

So many questions, and not many real attempts to find answers as yet.

It needs to start somewhere, and we need to set aside partisan rhetoric in the interest of getting to the heart of the matter and making real and desperately needed changes in the interest of saving lives and preserving freedoms.

So let’s talk, people.

Mount Ottoman

My little guy is a jumper (a climber, too, thanks to his grandma’s side of the family). We have these 3 padded ottomans in our living room we use for footrests and toy storage. John has taken to climbing on top of them and then jumping as far as he can toward the couch.

(here he is, right before a leap)

Of course, since he’s only 1, his little legs don’t carry him very far and he usually ends up getting caught mid-air by daddy before he hurts himself.

What struck me the other day was his jump routine: he gets up on the ottoman, and then gets this expression of utter joy on his little face as he launches himself.

He leaps, completely without fear. Into daddy’s arms, knowing that daddy will catch him.

I wish I was like that, especially where God is concerned. I want to take leaps of faith and know that daddy is on the other end of my leap with his arms open. Instead, I often do the opposite.

Instead of leaping, I climb back down off whatever height I’d scaled and I never jump at all.

I need to leap, even if I’m afraid.

I need to trust God to catch me.

I need to put fear where it belongs in matters of faith, or I really don’t have the faith I claim to.

Psalm 56 says: when I am afraid, I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise. What can mere mortals do to me?

I need to leap fearlessly, with the faith of a child.

If I’m able to do that, I can move mountains.

Sad and Confused

All I know about Syria right now is what I read in the papers and see on the news, but it seems clear there’s atrocity going on. I don’t know who’s to blame. The government says the rebels are, and the rebels say the same of the government.

Regardless, people are being slaughtered every day.

Now, I wonder what the world is going to do. I wonder what the US is going to do?

There’s been countless images of piles of bodies for months now, and at least from a layman’s point of view, it seems everyone including the US is just watching. Perhaps sending advisors.

I wonder how long it will take for the world to get tired of piles of bodies? It makes me think about wars, and rumors of wars.

Maybe the end is drawing near. I don’t know.

I do know that every time I see a dead child with a bullet hole in his/her face it makes me want to do something.

Right now all I can do is pray.

Pray for a resolution to the violence.

Pray for wisdom for my country’s leadership, and the leadership of other countries contemplating assistance to Syria in some capacity.

Pray for peace in a place that seldom sees it.

Pray for understanding on my own part. I just don’t understand this little regard for human life.

All I know is something has to happen, and quickly. This is not a war-this is wanton murder.

CTE Sucks

I used to think that football players these days weren’t as tough as they used to be, what with all the new rules now in place that prohibit various types of hits, and protect players from certain types of injuries.

I’m beginning to realize that tough has nothing to do with it. The NFL is getting it right with protecting these men. There have been several incidents of suicide from former players over the past few years, culminating in the death of Junior Seau on Wednesday from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

One commonality amongst some of the players who have died over the past few years—not just from suicide—has been chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), thought to be brought on by traumatic brain injuries such as concussions, which are extremely common in the NFL.

I’m beginning to thing much more is going to have to change in the way of protecting these men. The eyes of the public are beginning to open to CTE, and it’s my hope that athletes do not continue to die this way, or have their lives and cognitive abilities shortened because of these injuries.

I’m ashamed to say it took the death of a local sports hero—no, a local legend—to make me realize that. I realize it now, though. And as much as I enjoy football, something has to change.

Three Days

Day 1: September 1st, 2008

We met in the parking lot of Case de Pico, in Grossmont Center.

Jenny and I had been talking on the phone for a little over a week, and the conversations kept getting better and better. We knew we wanted to meet, and soon. She decided one weekend that she needed to get out of town, and it seemed the perfect opportunity for her and David to come to San Diego.

We decided we’d get some breakfast, and then head over to the San Diego Zoo. David would be there, and we wanted our first meeting to be something he’d be interested in, because we wanted him to feel included in whatever was happening with us from the very beginning. At least, as much as he could be.

I told her to message me when they were getting close, and me being me, I got there early. I only lived about ten minutes away at the time, anyway.

I waited in my car and I remember getting more and more nervous. We’d been talking, and getting along awesomely, but what if it wasn’t like that in person?

What if I couldn’t talk, or said something stupid?

What if she didn’t like me once we met?

What if I didn’t like her?

When she pulled up in her car and got out, I remember the first thing I thought was, “well, she really is six feet tall.”

I think I said something like “Hi,” and then gave her a hug. I remember that she smelled good, and that I thought I could look at her smile for weeks.

David got out of the car next, and I remember kneeling down and shaking his hand (at 4, he was actually little then—he’s my big guy, now).

I wondered if he would like me, too.

We all piled back into Jenny’s car and started driving. I know we went to Denny’s for a late breakfast (or early lunch), but I couldn’t tell you what I ate, or a single word I said. I just remember being nervous, and not wanting to sound like a jackass. I am certain I fell victim to my “nervous talking” thing, which is awesome. There are times when my tongue goes completely apestuff, and I can’t shut my mouth to save my life. Maybe Jenny remembers some of the conversation, but I don’t.

Then we went to the Zoo, and I remember driving down Park and having to call my brother-in-law because I couldn’t remember how in heck to get there. My sense of direction has not gotten much better since I moved to Yuma.

But I digress.

We found the zoo, and I remember getting on the tour bus, and driving around the zoo with our arms just barely touching. It was like having my hand on one of those shock things at the nickel arcade at Disneyland. I badly wanted to put my arm around her, but I didn’t want to be THAT guy.

Again, I’m certain we spoke to one another in the few hours we walked around the zoo, but that whole afternoon is lost to me as well. I do know that it felt right walking around with Jenny and David at my side.

We walked around the park for just a little while, and took David on that little train that runs near the zoo. At the time, he was all about Thomas, and all things train-related, so he had a pretty good time.

And then the afternoon was over and we were headed back to Grossmont Center to pick up my car. Neither of us wanted the afternoon to end, so we decided to have an early dinner in Case de Pico before Jenny headed back to Yuma.

I know the conversation just flowed from one thing to another easily, and it was as if we’d always talked. I didn’t feel any of the awkwardness I expected to for a first date, especially one with a kid involved. David was so funny, and energetic, and not afraid to talk at all. We had dinner, and I remember looking at her across the table and just thinking that she was beautiful. What was she doing with this big, bald-headed slob from Santee?

We walked outside when we were done eating, and David climbed into his car seat (he was 4 at the time). We stood looking at each other for a second or two and then I think we both realized that however long it took for us to get together again was going to be too long.

“I’ll come to Yuma next weekend,” I told her.

Then she moved into me and I felt her arms cross behind my neck. I just held her for a minute, and then in the parking lot of Case de Pico, with twilight just creeping into the horizon and a dollop of guacamole drying on the front of my shirt, we shared our first kiss.

It was quick, and fairly chaste, but I realized right away I wanted another one.

Next weekend was an eternity away.

Day 2: October 12, 2008

I can remember the exact moment I “knew” with Jenny. The moment I realized that was it, and I knew there was never going to be anyone else for me.

Jenny had come to see me in San Diego, and we were saying goodbye by her car. We were fairly early on in our relationship, and we wanted to see as much of each other as possible, but our time together was restricted to weekends—and it was tough.

We alternated visiting between Yuma and San Diego, and this particular weekend in October we were in my neck of the woods, because a friend had an extra ticket for the Chargers vs the Patriots, which was a rare opportunity for me—professional football games were expensive.

So we spent as much time together as we could, but eventually, it was time to say goodbye—I had to get on the trolley to Qualcomm Stadium. And for some reason, on this day, my stomach was bothering me. I was fidgeting a fair amount as we stood by her car, because I knew I was going to have to sneak one out eventually.

I didn’t want to hurry the goodbye, but nature is nature, and unless I got back inside my house soon, she was going to experience a part of me I didn’t think I was ready to show her.

And because life is just ridiculous sometimes, there came a moment when we were just standing there, not talking.

And it happened. It came on like a freight train, and I was helpless in its path. It sounded a little bit like when a sailor on one of those old pirate movies jumps from a crow’s nest and stabs his knife into the sail, sliding down to the deck with a loud rrrriiiippp.

I just sort of stood there turning red, and I remember Jenny’s eyes getting really big. Then she just sort of threw her arms around me and started laughing almost uncontrollably.

I love my wife so freaking much.

So here we are now, working on our third year together. It’s been awesome, and such a blessing. And yes, I still let one go every now and again. Except now, it doesn’t embarrass me nearly as much. Who doesn’t like the smell of freshly baked cookies?

Let me also say one thing God has not changed in me over the years is my sense of humor. I still enjoy “bathroom” humor above all other kinds.

And that’s ok. My wife, my best friend, makes me laugh every single day. She gets me like nobody else ever has. She enjoys a good gas joke, too.

Day 3: August 24, 2011

I was thinking about those 2 days this morning when I was getting ready for work. Three years since our first date next week.

I’d done my daily reading and packed my lunch. I realized I’d forgotten the novel I was currently reading on lunch, so I went back into the bedroom to get it. I turned on the bathroom light and in the column of light from the slightly opened door, I watched Jenny sleeping for a second or two, and it blew me away anew that I’d been blessed with a woman like her. It was like that Brad Paisley song, “…and I thought I loved you then…”

Hard to imagine loving her more.

I thought about our baby sleeping in the next room, and David across the hall.

That moment was like a snapshot of perfect happiness. I might have a tough day at work, and a hot ride home, but when I got there, I really was home, with my family around me.

I am so lucky—so blessed.

The Depths

One of my SD friends wrote something today, to the effect of she was who God made her to be. A simple statement, certainly, but not so easy to get your mind around. At least, not for me.

I am who God made me to be.

I think the problem I have with that has more to do with my self-perception than anything else. Why would God make me to be…this?

Aren’t I supposed to be a new creation? So much of the time I don’t feel like one.

And if it is true that God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all, then why is it that sometimes when I look into my heart, I see darkness?

Even today, knowing Christ, that is often what I see. It’s true that I’m a new creation, but it doesn’t take much for me to fall into old thought patterns, belief patterns, and even sin patterns. And it is certainly easier to believe negative things about myself than positive ones. It’s easier to believe the worst of God, because it makes more sense.

Grace makes no sense at all. Jesus didn’t die for us when we were at our best, or as we should be. He died for us at our worst, at our farthest from Him, when we needed him most.

Who would do a thing like that? Certainly not me. Who wants to do anything for a person that deliberately rejects them? You can almost understand it for people who are good, who do things for others at great cost for themselves.

That isn’t me. Because at my core, at the innermost depths of my heart, it is much easier to believe I am not a good person.

But is that really true?

Am I a bad person?

There are times when I feel like I am. Maybe I have a tough and stressful day at work, then I come home and snap at my kids or my wife, who are just happy to see me.

Someone who is good, who knows Jesus, would not do a thing like that.

There are times when I don’t give very cheerfully, either. It’s my money, and I earned it. I sweated for it, and lifted heavy things, and stayed up well past my bedtime.

A good person, a good Christian, gives and then gives some more. So why do I hold so tightly to the things of this world?

If I was made new and clean by the blood of Christ, then why do I feel dirty so often?

What does God say about that? I know that when I made my decision for Christ I “put off the old man.”

And was made a “new creation.” And even before that, I believed that God made me.

Didn’t I? And isn’t it true?

So if God made me, and if I am a new creation, then if I think I am a bad person, isn’t that like saying God made me bad? And does God make bad people?

I think that maybe God makes people good, and for whatever their reasons are, people make bad decisions about their lives–I know I did, for a very long time.

So that being said, and with the knowledge that I’ve “put off the old man,” why is it so easy to remember the old man, the one with the heart of stone?

The one with darkness and ugliness at his depths.

Hard question to answer, but I think basically, because it’s hard to totally surrender to God. It’s easy to remember the old me–and to feel like him. That’s what I knew for so long, and that’s why it’s so easy to slide back in that direction.

But because I know Jesus is there, there really isn’t any darkness. In Him there is no darkness at all.
I am in Him.

And there is no darkness–even if it feels that way every once in a while.

I think of the Chris Tomlin song “Indescribable,” and the lyric that sums up Christ’s love for us, his beloved Children.

For me.

“You see the depths of my heart, and you love me the same.”

He loves us the same, even if when we look at ourselves we see darkness. He loves us the same, even if when we look at ourselves, we see ugliness.

He loves us the same.

Because His perception is not ours. He sees us through timeless eyes not colored by lies about ourselves, and about Him.

He died for us while we were dead in our transgressions.

He died for us broken and disgraced.

He sees the depths of our heart and he loves us the same.

Verses of the day…

Originally posted last July…but I can’t get enough of these verses. And I love the Message translation…

“When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’

22-24“But the father wasn’t listening. He was calling to the servants, ‘Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! My son is here—given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!’ And they began to have a wonderful time.

Luke 15:20-24, From The Message

Funny how you just find stuff sometimes.

30 Days

A while back I saw episode of 30 Days on FX (catch it on Netflix streaming if you can, it’s really interesting) about a straight man living with a gay roommate for a month. It did much to dispell some of this man’s preconceived notions about the gay community, but it also raised some interesting questions about the straight community, and that of the church’s position and views (some churches, anyway) regarding homosexuality.

The show really made me think about some things.

That was always one of the toughest things about “the church” for me to deal with–the sometimes violent reaction that homosexuality provokes within it, from many people one would not normally expect to have that type of reaction. You see people who look like soccer moms, and schoolteachers, and just…regular people picketing places known to have gay patrons, or guests, or even just some places they (the picketers) can draw attention to themselves.

The “church” Which Shall Not Be Named seems to be the chief offender but certainly not the only one—just watch any news coverage of a gay pride parade and you’ll see the people I’m talking about (I am not naming that particular institution because they don’t deserve to be named—hate speech has nothing to do with Jesus) .

When I see those people were standing there with their sandwich board signs proclaiming “God hates fags” and things of that nature, it makes me feel sad more than anything else. For goodness’ sake, sometimes you’ll even see small children holding signs and yelling!

That just isn’t right, not to me at least.

These people spent a lot of time citing the various scriptures that refer to homosexuality as proof that God does indeed “hate” gays.

I disagree.

I believe God hates the devil, and the sin that he “inspires” in God’s people, but God does not hate his children.

These men and women say they take the bible literally. OK. Fine. Take it literally. It’s true. But if it is, and they believe all of it, then where do they get the idea that it’s OK to hate someone because of who they sleep with (or who they don’t)?

The message of Jesus is one of love, not condemnation. These kind of people just don’t get that. I believe the bible is just really one long love story–about God loving his creations through the messiness of their lives, all of them. Not just any one denomination, or cultural sub-group.

He loved us when he made us, through our sin, in spite of our sin, and he will continue to do so even if we never repent, and even if we never come to know Him and never realize that He loves US, he still will. I think of John 3:16. Romans 8:38-39. Nowhere does the either the bible or God say to hate a person because of the person’s sexuality or any other reason (that I know of).

Jesus did get angry at people—like the money changers who made the temple into a den of thieves, or the Pharisees who just didn’t get it, either. Come to that, these sign-holders are sort of modern-day Pharisees themselves, aren’t they?

But anyway.

Do I believe that homosexuality is a sin? Yes, because I believe the bible is true. But I don’t hate gays, or really their sin, either, to tell you the truth. It isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to hate anyone. And while I’m rolling on that topic, I don’t feel that two men or women being able to legally marry threatens the sanctity of mine or anyone else’s marriage, either.

I will be just as married whether or not two men are able to do the chicken dance at their reception. What I can do, what I should do regarding these men and women is show them the love of Jesus, and not color it with my personal hangups or ideas about what is and isn’t right.

I know a lot of people think that a person chooses to be gay–that it’s a preference. I’m not so sure I agree with that, either. Why would anyone choose to be hated, or persecuted?

But with that said, all I can really do is pray for them. The thing is, the gay people I’ve known in my life have all been pretty much cool, and in the case of a girl I used to work with, someone I liked very much. Someone I could (and plan to) be friends with.

I knew a gay man named Michael, who was another story because he embodied all the stereotypes people cite when they talk about gays; he was very promiscuous, he used drugs, he was flamboyant (though not particularly stylish. He could dance, though). But even he was pretty cool.

The thing I have noticed about gays and lesbians is that they seem far more accepting of people as they are, and not who they think they should be. And the support they offer one another within their community is extraordinary. Maybe we straight folks could all learn a thing or two about that. Maybe it comes from having to draw together as a group, and accept each other when no one else will accept you. I don’t know. Anyway, it’s a tough issue, and one that I probably won’t figure out anytime soon.

I guess for now, I’ll just have to accept that gay people are going to be gay whether I or anyone else wants them to be. I’ll continue to think their lifestyle is a sin, because I believe the bible is fundamentally true, and that’s what it tells me. Romans uses the term “unnatural lust” to describe it. But I will not hate homosexuals because of their lifestyle. I will do my best to love them as people, to accept them as people like I would accept anyone else. I’m not going to be condemning anyone because of their sexual proclivities as consenting adults.

It’s for God to condemn, not me.

Not Peace, But a Sword

I grew up with this picture of Jesus in my head. It was probably the same as many people have–the tall guy in the white robe with the flowing, honey-colored hair and the kind brown eyes. Sometimes I’d picture him doing things like patting kids on the head and carrying lambs across his shoulders—the kind of pictures you see on tracts and velvet paintings all over the place.

But not always.

Occasionally you’ll see an almost bloodless representation of the crucifixion—with Jesus, arms spread, staring up at the sky with a beatific expression plastered on his unbloodied face.

Things like that.

But there was so much more to Jesus than any number of paintings could ever depict. He walked everywhere. He built things. He worked with his hands. He made over a hundred gallons of wine from clay jars of water for the wedding in Cana—and I imagine he probably sang and danced a little, too, though the scripture doesn’t tell us about that. He had a large group of friends, and they probably laughed together, and ate together, and cried together.

Jesus was Lord, and Savior, and El Shaddai, but He was also a man.

And he did not just walk around smiling at people. Not that he did not do the things you see represented everywhere, but that was not all he did, certainly. And not all He was meant to do.

Look at Matthew 10:34:

34“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.

A sword.

And while it’s true he came to die for us, that we might live, he also came to fight for us, to intercede on our behalf. He did everything He could to give us an opportunity to choose Him—and to live. His passion for us was without measure. His passion for His father was without measure.

From John 2:

13When it was almost time for the Jewish Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 14In the temple courts he found men selling cattle, sheep and doves, and others sitting at tables exchanging money. 15So he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area, both sheep and cattle; he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. 16To those who sold doves he said, “Get these out of here! How dare you turn my Father’s house into a market!”

It must have really been something to see—this Rabbi, this teacher, who prior to that incident, had been simply that—a teacher. But this man was also a warrior. This man, upon seeing his Father’s house not just disrespected, but commercialized and filled with….things not of Heaven, but earth, was incensed to such a degree that he sat down somewhere, and calmly braided some pieces of leather into a whip, and used it.

He came to the temple to observe the passover, and found a flea market instead. His disciples hadn’t seen this side of him before. It had to have been a little disconcerting. But then:

17His disciples remembered that it is written: “Zeal for your house will consume me.”

It was written.

I had not read that verse before, had not even heard of it. My NIV tells me it was from Psalm 69–which was a psalm I’d skimmed over, but not spent any real time on.

9 for zeal for your house consumes me,
and the insults of those who insult you fall on me.

It was insulting that the…vendors in the temple had no respect or understanding of not really the temple itself, but the purpose of it. On its own, the temple was just a building, an object. It was not holy. But the presence of God made it Holy. And the people that came with the intent of worshipping in earnest, with all their hearts, should have been able to do it, to be in communion with the one true God, without navigating a crowded marketplace.

They made it worldly.

And that made Jesus angry. The moneychangers and other sellers of things were taking away from the worshippers time with God. And even then, even before Calvary, Jesus knew that none of the things being sold in the temple were necessary (or would not soon be necessary) to enter into relationship with God.

Here is psalm 69, in its entirety. NIV translation.

1 Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.

2 I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.

3 I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,
looking for my God.

4 Those who hate me without reason
outnumber the hairs of my head;
many are my enemies without cause,
those who seek to destroy me.
I am forced to restore
what I did not steal.

5 You know my folly, O God;
my guilt is not hidden from you.

6 May those who hope in you
not be disgraced because of me,
O Lord, the LORD Almighty;
may those who seek you
not be put to shame because of me,
O God of Israel.

7 For I endure scorn for your sake,
and shame covers my face.

8 I am a stranger to my brothers,
an alien to my own mother’s sons;

9 for zeal for your house consumes me,
and the insults of those who insult you fall on me.

10 When I weep and fast,
I must endure scorn;

11 when I put on sackcloth,
people make sport of me.

12 Those who sit at the gate mock me,
and I am the song of the drunkards.

13 But I pray to you, O LORD,
in the time of your favor;
in your great love, O God,
answer me with your sure salvation.

14 Rescue me from the mire,
do not let me sink;
deliver me from those who hate me,
from the deep waters.

15 Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
or the depths swallow me up
or the pit close its mouth over me.

16 Answer me, O LORD, out of the goodness of your love;
in your great mercy turn to me.

17 Do not hide your face from your servant;
answer me quickly, for I am in trouble.

18 Come near and rescue me;
redeem me because of my foes.

19 You know how I am scorned, disgraced and shamed;
all my enemies are before you.

20 Scorn has broken my heart
and has left me helpless;
I looked for sympathy, but there was none,
for comforters, but I found none.

21 They put gall in my food
and gave me vinegar for my thirst.

22 May the table set before them become a snare;
may it become retribution and ^[a] a trap.

23 May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see,
and their backs be bent forever.

24 Pour out your wrath on them;
let your fierce anger overtake them.

25 May their place be deserted;
let there be no one to dwell in their tents.

26 For they persecute those you wound
and talk about the pain of those you hurt.

27 Charge them with crime upon crime;
do not let them share in your salvation.

28 May they be blotted out of the book of life
and not be listed with the righteous.

29 I am in pain and distress;
may your salvation, O God, protect me.

30 I will praise God’s name in song
and glorify him with thanksgiving.

31 This will please the LORD more than an ox,
more than a bull with its horns and hoofs.

32 The poor will see and be glad—
you who seek God, may your hearts live!

33 The LORD hears the needy
and does not despise his captive people.

34 Let heaven and earth praise him,
the seas and all that move in them,

35 for God will save Zion
and rebuild the cities of Judah.
Then people will settle there and possess it;

36 the children of his servants will inherit it,
and those who love his name will dwell there.

Hard to follow that with any comments, so I won’t, other than to say that Easter is this weekend, and right now we’re in the middle of Holy Week. Sometime around now, 2000 plus years ago, Jesus was making a whip.
Just read the preceding psalm, and think about it. Chew on it. Ask God what you can take away from it.
And think about what parts of your life need to be upset in order to right your relationship with the living God.