That torn curtain

I wonder what impacted you afresh this past Easter about Jesus’ journey to the cross and his resurrection. Each year, I find myself thinking there will be nothing new I can possibly discover in the various gospel accounts of those events. And, each year, God surprises me all over again with some fresh insight that makes me stop and reflect on my own life or on our world in general.

When our youth pastor spoke at our church on Good Friday, he described the cataclysmic events that occurred when Jesus actually gave up his spirit and died on the cross. I had forgotten these events and my imagination went into overdrive when he referred to the various things that happened, as recorded in Matthew’s Gospel:

Then Jesus shouted out again, and he released his spirit. At that moment the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, rocks split apart, and tombs opened. The bodies of many godly men and women who had died were raised from the dead. They left the cemetery after Jesus’ resurrection, went into the holy city of Jerusalem, and appeared to many people. Matthew 27:50-53NLT

Wow! Imagine being there and experiencing the earth shaking and rocks splitting apart—not to mention tombs opening. Surely there must have been chaos all around at that point as people fled one way and another in fear. Perhaps some thought it was a random natural disaster, yet others came to a different conclusion, as Matthew’s Gospel goes on to describe:

The Roman officer and the other soldiers at the crucifixion were terrified by the earthquake and all that had happened. They said, “This man truly was the Son of God!” Matthew 27:54NLT

But what about that torn curtain? It was probably huge and heavy, being an important curtain that separated the people from the holiest place in the temple. Was it somehow fixed or replaced before the special Sabbath Passover service there the day after Jesus was crucified? Or was it cobbled together in a way that the people still noticed? Did any of those present begin to think about the significance of that torn curtain and relate it to Jesus’ death? Surely, they must at least have wondered how this could happen. Or did they merely put it down to earthquake damage?

One day we will understand more. But for now, imagining this event was enough to challenge me to think about the momentous difference Jesus’ death has made in my own life and in the life of all who believe in him. Through his death on our behalf, Jesus broke the power of sin and death over each one of us. Through shedding his blood, Jesus opened up the way for us to draw close to our holy God again, enabling us to stand in God’s very presence and know we are completely forgiven, perfectly loved and wholly accepted. The barrier has come down. The curtain has been torn in two—and we are free to approach God, knowing we will not be turned away.

What an awesome privilege—and what an awesome Saviour we have! May we each from the bottom of our hearts freely declare, along with those soldiers, ‘This man truly was the Son of God!’

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Pursuing praise

I wonder how many of you, authors or otherwise, struggle with this whole area of looking for praise for what we produce? I  have been thinking about this in connection with the recent release of my fifth novel Heléna’s Legacy. Of course I want people to like this book. And of course I want it to impact and encourage as many people as possible. After all, I believe in this novel – and I believe it was something God wanted me to write. So I’m happy to get out there and promote it for all it’s worth. And I’m very pleased (and relieved!) when people respond positively – when they congratulate me, when they say they love the cover, when they warm to what I’ve written.

In one sense, I have to ‘pursue’ praise. By that I mean I have to listen to my readers – there is no point in continuing to produce novels no one likes and no one buys. And that includes taking on board praise as well as criticism. But in my uncertainty as to whether my book is ‘good enough’, I find myself on occasions seeking so desperately for that reassuring praise that may never come. I look too eagerly for people’s responses. My wellbeing begins to depend on it. I analyse their words too closely and, if face to face, try to discern if they mean what they’re saying. Perhaps they’re merely trying to be nice and not hurt me. Or perhaps while they compliment me on some aspect of the novel, they’re secretly glad they can find at least something positive to say about it!

So where is the point where I begin to seek praise for praise’s sake only – to make me feel good or to boost my ego – rather than look for it to show me I have written something that will be well-received and hopefully used by God? Where do I step over into self-centredness, caring more about my own honour rather than God’s? Where is the dividing line between humbly and thankfully accepting people’s praise and letting it go to my head?

I guess the real question in my heart is this: Whose praise am I seeking the most – men’s (and women’s!) or God’s? Recently I read the account in John 5 of how Jesus heals a disabled man, telling him to pick up his mat and walk, but is persecuted for this because it is the Sabbath. The persecution then gets worse when Jesus calls God Father, yet this doesn’t deter him from confronting his opponents even more strongly. ‘I know you,’ he tells them (v 42). ‘I know that you do not have the love of God in your hearts.’ Then he asks a question that pulled me up short: ‘How can you believe if you accept praise from one another, yet make no effort to obtain the praise that comes from the only God?’ (v 44)

Yes, I know and am so thankful for the fact that I am fully accepted by God and saved by grace – that none of my works, written or otherwise, will ever ‘earn’ me eternal life. But here Jesus clearly shows the importance of taking God’s opinion of us into account over that of mere mortals, of living in a way that please God above all else. And I’m sure you too look forward to the day when, like the faithful servant in Matthew 25, we ourselves hear our Master’s ‘Well done, good and faithful servant!’ (v 21)

Now that’s definitely some praise worth pursuing, don’t you agree?

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