During the time Revelation was written, the early Christians lived in fear of what their future could hold. The signs of the times were pointing toward persecution. They felt threatened by the tyranny of the Roman Empire. The future felt bleak. It was dark.

But in the opening portion of Revelation, John refers to Jesus as the one who holds the "seven stars" (Rev. 1:16; 2:1; 3:1). In John's world, the "seven stars" were the sun and the moon, along with the five planets humans can see with the naked eye (Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Mercury, and Mars). These stars were thought to be divine entities that controlled the events occurring on the earth. People in ancient times charted the stars and used them as maps to predict the future. A new star could mean the birth of a king (as exemplified by the magi's interpretation in Matt. 2). A short lunar cycle was a bad omen and could signify death and destruction.

Many scholars believe that Revelation was written during the time of the Roman emperor Domitian's rule. If this is the case, there was a coin in circulation during Domitian's reign that depicted Domitian's son surrounded by seven stars. This was representative of the Roman Empire's belief that their emperors were gods, capable of controlling the present and the future.

But in this passage it is Jesus who holds the stars, not Rome, not Domitian, not Domitian's son. It is Jesus who holds the future.

Revelation, then, is not meant to frighten; it is meant to comfort. For the early Christians, Revelation was not a horror story - it was a lullaby, soothing the believers worries about the future.

Revelation tells us that yes, the bough may break, and yes, the cradle may fall, but Jesus is there to catch us in his loving arms. Revelation challenges us to live faithfully in spite of the terrors of the night, trusting the One who holds the stars in his hand.

We don't need to be afraid of the dark.

P.S. Over the next few weeks I'll be posting a series about how to interpret Revelation in a way that is faithful to its first century context. Check back and join me! In the meantime, what have been your experiences with the book of Revelation - the good, the bad, or the ugly? Tell me about them!

My husband and I then go to church, which has become radically different for us. For the past four years I've been on staff at churches, during which Sunday was another day of work. I've enjoyed this new season where I can enjoy the gathering together of God's people as part of my Sabbath practice.

When I got home from church last week, I spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen making cream-filled donuts. I mean, Sabbath is all about being drawn into God's presence, and what's a better way to do that than through fried sweets? Shout it with me: "Hallelujah!"



In the afternoon, my husband and I head to the park and do some hiking. We love to be in nature. I also really like to draw/paint as part of my Sabbath practice.


As my 24-hour period draws to a close, I start thinking about my work week and doing any preparation I need. I'll make a meal plan/grocery list, write what I need to accomplish in my planner, pack lunches, and pick out an outfit for the next day.

At the close of every Sabbath, I think to myself, "This was my most favorite day!" Seriously. Sabbath is all about taking care of your soul.

Once again, your Sabbath may not look like this, and that's okay. Let's not be legalistic about what Sabbath should look like. It's not a one-size-fits-all.

But if you would like some ideas on how you can keep Sabbath better, this sample from Enough: Celebrating the God of Freedom and Abundance has some practical worksheets to help you access your current rest habits and guide you toward embracing Sabbath as a lifestyle.



Shabat shalom!

"Save me, God!"

We've all uttered these words at some point in our lives -- when we're desperate, when we're at the end of our rope, when we've given up hope.

When we're at this point, we become so focused on what we need deliverance from. Our dire circumstance locks us into tunnel vision so that we can't see anything beyond the present. Foreseeing any sort of future beyond where we are is impossible.

If anyone was in the midst of impossible circumstances where all hope seemed lost, it was the Israelites. Over and over again, the Old Testament tells the story of how God delivered his people and gave them a new future. They cried, "Save me, God!" and he listened. He saved them out of his loving kindness (hesed).

But he didn't stop there.

God delivered his people because he loved them, but God also delivered them because they were his vehicle through which he would bring redemption to the entire world.

God doesn't just deliver us from something; he delivers us for something.

God delivers us from our sin so that we can participate in his kingdom. He delivers us from our addiction to our sinful nature so that we can live lives characterized by his holiness. He delivers us from unhealthy habits, relationships, and situations so that we can experience his full shalom. God desires to deliver us for something.

There have been several times in my life when God delivered me from something and for something. I keep thinking back on all the ways I've seen his faithfulness:

• When I first decided to follow Christ, I remember feeling a deep sense of belonging and purpose, like God was calling me to a new life in him. 
• When God delivered me from bondage to my sinful nature (we Wesleyans call this process "sanctification"), I sensed a call to ministry. 
• When God delivered me from the pressures of fitting into the "Biblical scholar" role forced upon me while I was in seminary, he gave me a job that helped me discover my best self.

This past year, God delivered me in a huge way from a toxic church system. He gave me a way out when the dysfunction was at an all-time high and my hope was at an all-time low. He fought for me, and all I had to do was be still. He gave me the words to say, and the courage to say them. I can't express how grateful I am for his faithful, loving kindness.

Yet...

While I certainly know what I was delivered from, I'm still not sure what I was delivered for. When we're stuck in sin, abuse, and injustice, it's hard to imagine a future. The tunnel vision persists. Then suddenly we're out on the other side and a big, wide-open future exists.

Even before we can tentatively imagine a future for ourselves beyond the "now," God already has. 

God's grace goes before us and starts preparing a new way. And so in this new season of slowness and quietness I am waiting and listening. I'm trusting that God has a "for" in mind. I'm resisting the urge to rush into something new just for the sake of having "something." Instead, I'm looking for the ways that he is leading me and the quiet ways that he has consistently showed up every day.

God was faithful to deliver me, and he will be faithful to guide me.

Trust in God's goodness with me, dear friend. May our brave act of resistance be imagining new futures with new purposes.

I started practicing Sabbath a year ago in response to how much I prioritized my work and achievements. Let me tell you, friends, Sabbath-keeping is a huge game changer when it comes to spiritual maturity.

After keeping Sabbath for as little as a month, I was amazed at how much resting changed how I view every single area of my life.

It changed how I view God.
It changed how I view myself.
It changed how I view my possessions.
It changed how I view others.

I thought that I already viewed all of these relational spaces correctly. If you had asked me about them a year ago, I could have told you the right theological answers. But Sabbath-keeping converted the head-knowledge to heart-knowledge.

You see, we typically abide by Descartes' pattern of reason: I think, therefore I am.

What Sabbath taught me is this: I am, therefore I think.

Before I could think properly, the I AM had to show me who I am.

Sabbath taught me to build my identity upon the relationship that I have with God. By practicing Sabbath, I grew into this identity, which in turn changed how I thought about all the rest of my relationships.

I'm sure the Israelites had to have this same shift in thinking when God first gave them the Sabbath command in the book of Exodus. As a people group who had been enslaved for 400 years, they had been deeply ingrained with the idea that their worth came from how productive they were. They weren't ever permitted to stop and rest, and God's Sabbath command was extremely jarring to them. It challenged their former identity as slaves. It called them to a new way of doing.

But slowly, by keeping the Sabbath command faithfully, the Israelites grew out of their relationship with Egypt and into their relationship with Yahweh. God used the Sabbath to restructure their way of doing, which in turn led to a new way of thinking. Sabbath-keeping helped the Israelites form a new identity in the relationship they had with Yahweh. Through Sabbath, God does the same thing with us today.

Right thinking doesn't always lead to right doing. But right doing often leads to right thinking.

The first time I practiced Sabbath, I absolutely hated it.

At the time, I was wearing myself thin by clocking in lots of overtime hours at a church. I was exhausted, but I felt like I couldn't stop, because Sunday came every single week. I was stuck in a never-ending cycle, and the pressure to prove my worth by what I did started to consume me. At this church, I was valued for what I could contribute and how "useful" I was. The drive to impress others and keep up the pace quickly escalated until I found myself having occasional panic attacks, something that I had never experienced before. My breaking point came when I had a panic attack right before I had to go on stage and speak in front of hundreds of people. I couldn't remember what I had planned to say, but I somehow managed to stumble through my presentation.

It was a this low point in my life that I put my foot down and said, "Enough!" 

I put up boundaries on my job description. I cut back on my work hours. I set aside a full day where I vowed I would not do any work.

So you'd think that Sabbath-keeping would be a huge relief after struggling with this frenetic lifestyle. You'd think that I would have let out a deep sigh, done a victory lap around my house, and lived life to its fullest.

I didn't.

On my first Sabbath, I found myself feeling extremely anxious and agitated. I remember sitting on my couch, wondering what the heck I was supposed to do the whole day if I couldn't get any work done. I felt guilty for not being productive. I hated feeling this way, and I resented the Sabbath for making me confront all of my thoughts of inadequacy.

It was then that I realized just how pervasive my utilitarian ideology and identity had become. It was humbling, but even more so, it was scary. I was shocked at just how much I longed for the work that had become a form of bondage. God had set me free, but I found myself trying to return to my former way of life, even if it involved the destructive forces of anxiety and oppression.

I was addicted to Egypt.

That first Sabbath was a struggle, but I stuck with it. Slowly, my mentality began to change. I began to find so much delight in it.

In today's culture, Sabbath-keeping is hard. You might not even like it at first. It might make you feel like you're being lazy and insufficient. You might yearn for the gratification that comes from checking off tasks from a list.

But what you will discover when you start practicing Sabbath is that you are enough. And because you are enough outside of your work, you can choose to stop and rest.

God gave you permission to rest, and when you stop your work and rest in him, he will set you free to live a new lifestyle. He will heal you. He will sustain you. And after a while, you will learn how to find delight in the Sabbath.

This fall I begin my Ph.D. in Old Testament at the University of Manchester. The application process was nothing short of intimidating. In order to be accepted, I had to choose my research topic and give rationale for 1) Why it is important academically; 2) Why it contributes to a void in current research; 3) Why my idea is even feasible in the first place.

It felt a lot like writing about something you don't know anything about yet.

I'm a little amazed that I somehow managed to fool them into thinking that I actually know things. But I've heard that this pretty much sums up the Ph.D. process.

For those who are interested, here's what I'll be researching for my dissertation:




The idea began back when I was in college and took a class on the 8th Century prophets. When we studied the book of Hosea, I could not get this particular passage out of my head:

Freedom is harder than it looks.

It doesn't matter what the bondage was: addiction, insecurity, abuse, dysfunction, self-destruction...

Once you break free, you must keep working to remain free. 

You must unlearn the bondage and rewire a new way of thinking and being.

In his autobiography, Booker T. Washington reflects on what occurred after the Emancipation Proclamation. For a few minutes, he writes, there was unbridled celebration. But the celebration quickly dissipated by the time the former slaves returned to their cabins. "The great responsibility of being free, of having charge of themselves, or having to think and plan for themselves and their children, seemed to take possession of them."* Where would they go now? How would they earn a living? Because of this, many of the newly freed slaves decided to stay with their former masters.

Freedom is harder than it looks.

"If only we had died by the Lord's hand in Egypt," the Israelites said once freed. "There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death" (Exodus 16:3).

Freedom requires breaking ties with a former way of living, but in the process, it opens up a new future full of uncertainty. At least when you were in bondage there was some semblance of order, of routine, of familiarity. We forget the abuse and desire to shackle ourselves to captivity once more.

For two years I was on staff at a spiritually abusive church. It was toxic. I knew things were "off," but I didn't realize just how wrong they were until I told some of my pastor friends and my spiritual director. One by one, they all cried with me and told me, "Christina, you are in an abusive situation."

I resigned from the church, was bullied and then fired for telling them why I was leaving (!), but I was free.

Or so I thought.

As horrible as the situation was, I sometimes find myself wondering whether I should have stayed. At least I was doing ministry. At least I was pouring into the next generation for Jesus. At least I was getting payed. At least I had something on my resume. There was abuse, but there were rewards (which is how an abusive relationship works).

You see, as resilient and strong as you may be, your bondage will try just as hard to keep its talons in you. Evil will come knocking on your door and ask you to come back.

Evil rarely goes down easily. Becoming free from it is hard work, but remaining free just might be even harder.

Freedom is a process. It takes a holy tenacity to not just become free, but to keep moving toward freedom. With God's grace, I am learning how to raise my flag of freedom high. "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free," Paul writes. "Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery" (Galatians 5:1).

So stand firm. Renounce your captivity to sin and abuse, and instead shackle yourself to the freedom Christ gives you.

Break free and stay free.

*Washington, Booker T. Up From Slavery. Penguin Books, 1986. Page 21.

Excerpt from Enough: Celebrating the God of Freedom and Abundance

I want to be the hero.

I read the stories about Moses and Elijah and find myself trying to relate with them. I read about their strong character qualities, and when I put myself into their stories, I see myself as them. Surely, I am the one who boldly stands against the unjust, the one who fights for the vulnerable, the one who relies on God against all odds. I think I see clearly into Scripture.

But I'm near-sighted.

Because sometimes I am the villain. I am the Pharaoh, the Jezebel, the Absolam, the Jonah. I am the one who rebels against God, the one who erects false idols, the one whose pride creates a blockade against God's Spirit. I am the one who thinks I see clearly, but actually has a plank in my eye.

When I read Scripture assuming that I relate most with the heroes, I'm not humbling myself before God and his Word. I'm not allowing the Spirit to speak to me, convict me of my sin, and mature in God's grace.

If I want to see clearly, I have to see myself in the villain as well as in the hero. I have to admit that my vision is impaired and humbly ask God to help me view myself clearly.

The eye is the fastest healing organ in the body.