Today is a special day for Kiwis.

New Zealanders consider 25th April to be an important national day of commemoration - not of war and the horrors of war, but of bravery and valour, “brotherhood”, and nationhood.

Indeed, for many of us it is considered now to be the day, back in 1915, when our small developing nation, regarded dispensable by British war lords, deserted in its most dreadful hour by Mother England, truly became of age.

It is a special day of reflection in my own family, my father-in-law having fought at Gallipoli back then. I never knew him as he was a much older man when my husband was born, and died long before I met his son. But the family memories remain, and it will not be forgotten how these men fought so bravely, as did the Turks opposing them. Both sides had enormous respect for each other, which made fighting that much more difficult. It is easier if you hate your enemy, but when that does not turn out to be the case, one has to remember the bigger picture… that the man in the uniform could well become your friend, but what he stood for was something else.

These days there is a special relationship between Kiwis, Aussies and Turks. This was evident when my husband, on business in Turkey, happened to mention his father’s participation in the Gallipoli campaign. It opened many doors and he was greeted like a brother. Note the words below of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881 - 1938), the Founder of the Turkish Republic and its first President, on the Ari Burnu Memorial, Gallipoli. It was this same man, Lt-Col (later Colonel) Mustafa Kemal Bey (Ataturk), who commanded the Turkish forces pitted against the ANZAC troops on the Gallipoli Peninsular in 1915:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives — You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehemets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours — you, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

~ ATATURK, 1934

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When I sat down at my computer this morning, my eyes still blurry with sleep, something looked not quite as I remembered it ought. My keyboard seemed to be different, as though it was trying to tell me something. Perhaps it was just that I was half asleep, for I certainly seemed to be dreaming…

Has it really been that long?
I never would have believed it.

Judah’s Journal is 5 years old today!

Hubby and I had been pouring over computer specs all day and we needed an airing, a visit to a local café for our customary “two long blacks”. One each, that is.

They were duly delivered along with little slips of paper bearing conversation-provoking messages. Mine read “Never believe in absolutes”. No reason was given why not, but the interesting thing was the contradictory nature of the message, itself being an absolute. The unstated corollary would have to be “including this one!”

“That’s the trouble with the world today,” volunteered Hubby. “People don’t want to believe in absolutes. It’s all relative even when it is not.” A silver-coloured car went past just outside the window. “That car is painted a silver colour,” he said. “I don’t care who says it is some different colour. It isn’t. It is a silver colour.”

Well, I certainly have no argument with that. There are absolutes, whether we believe that or not. Try jumping off a building in the belief that gravity is only relative and it wont have any effect on one’s fall. One way to sort out believers from non-believers! The absolutes don’t jump; the relatives end up a mess on the ground.

I remember a psychology lecture on neuro-linguistic programming - NLP. We were taught that “the map is not the world” and that our perception was merely a map. The world was reality, our map not necessarily so. We all go around with maps, and they don’t necessarily read the same. One could have a mountain where another has a lake. The reader of each map will have a different response to that part of the world.

Now that makes sense to me when I find my perception differs from that of others. We all react, at least in part, to our various perceptions of reality. If someone told you, in a language you did not comprehend, that all your family back home had died in a house fire… well, you’d be none the wiser. You had not perceived the meaning of their message. Your existing map does not represent that part of the world. But should that be said in the language you do understand… what a different reaction that could provoke! Suddenly your map corresponds more closely to the reality of that part of the world.

I guess the whole essence of sanity is having one’s map correspond closely to the world. What is real, right, true… they need to match existing reality. Where that does not happen, we may be deceived, in denial, deluded, or dead. And so I will go for absolutes. I need to match my map closely to the world or I’ll confuse the features of the landscape and most likely lose my way… if I had any idea where I was heading in the first place. A lake is not a mountain, and it wont stop being a lake just because I perceive it as something else. A silver-coloured car is silver-coloured, no matter who says it is otherwise.

When I am told it is right to do something because everybody else does it, or because I can get away with it without being caught… no, that is not the definition of “right”. What is right has to match with something that remains consistent in all circumstances regardless of how others behave, or who might be around to catch me out. What is right, real, true… all of those things have to correspond with their immutable source. If not, then we say goodbye to absolutes and those things are relative to whatever changing standard we choose. Nope, not for me. Absolutely!

Hmm, not a bad cup of coffee. Now back to those computer specs…

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The Last Supper that spoke of the new covenant of God with His people, the anguish of Jesus in Gethsemane, the horrendous Crucifixion, and then the glorious Resurrection, are all profoundly meaningful and moving for followers of Christ. Jesus was faithfully obedient to His Father right to the victorious end.

One of the most important things I have learned on my Journey, brought home to me again by these Easter events, would have to be this:

That our obedience also matters, and is how we show our gratitude and love for Christ. We are warned not to allow ourselves to become hardened, because if we look at the whole concept of hardening in its Biblical perspective, we see that something happens to us through repeated sins. Our consciences become seared. The more we commit a particular sin, the less remorse we feel from it. Our hearts are recalcitrant through repeated disobedience.

To all those who argue that God will overlook what they are doing, that it does not matter that much, or even that their sin is not a sin…

When God hardens the heart, all He does is step away and stop striving with us. For example, the first time I commit a particular sin, my conscience bothers me. In His grace, God is convicting me of that evil. God is intruding into my life, trying to persuade me to stop this wickedness. If He wants to harden me, all He has to do is to stop rebuking me, stop nudging me, and just give me enough rope to hang myself.

We see in Scripture that when God hardens hearts, He does not force people to sin; rather, He gives them their freedom to exercise the evil of their own desires (James 1:13–15), to go their own way, to choose to believe what they want to believe.

James 1:13–15: “Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am tempted by God’; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed. Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death.”

Think of all that Jesus went through for us… and His glorious victory resulting from faithful obedience.

Pray this prayer with the psalmist David: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Ps. 139:23–24).

My own prayer: May God make your heart more tender, your conscience more sensitive, and your resolve to obey Him far stronger than your temptation to do otherwise. May God make this happen to me that my journey will continue on the narrow path, through the narrow gate, as it must as a true disciple of Christ. Amen.

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There is a connection, but these days it is often forgotten, not known, or deliberately ignored. The secularization of much of Christianity, from the promotion of a social gospel (without Gospel) to consumerism (with Santa) at Christmas, includes the concentration on chocolate to mark the celebration of Easter.

In the newspaper was a list of what kinds of shops may legally trade on Easter Sunday, and just what they may sell. The rest will be breaking the law. Whatever guides that decision is somewhat incomprehensible, and frankly, quite silly. I may bet on the horses at the TAB, but I can’t make a sandwich to sell to another. So I can play but not work, make money through recreation, but not through a service to others (except in tourist “hot spots”). Sandwiches made prior to the day will pass, but not ones made freshly on the day. I sympathise with those who criticise the senselessness of such a law, but if they don’t want any law about Easter, then perhaps they should not claim the holiday (Holy Day) - nor increased pay rates for working it - either. Oh, but it is a good excuse for some kind of celebration, even forgetting the Christian significance, or rendering it innocuous by converting to chocolate egg eating instead.

For a nation of just 4½ million people, we in New Zealand manage to consume $(NZ)31,000,000 of chocolate at Easter ($7 each, including babies of course) and chomped through a whole $(NZ)383,000,000 worth in total last year. Many of us will eat far more than others as someone like me who, as a diabetic, has learnt to enjoy Easter without needing to eat chocolate which would do me no good… so someone else is eating my share! One of the biggest eggs on sale this year weighs 1 Kg and provides 22,400 kilojoules (5,350 nutritional calories) of energy - about 2½ times the daily energy requirement for one person. It would take over a day of walking, or 13½ hours of cycling, or 10 hours of jogging, or 7½ hours of swimming, to work it all off. Not for me… I’m too lazy for that! …or would, more likely, end up in hospital.

Now, the neglected connection… and of course, it has to do with new life.

Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?
(My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?)

Some of those standing at the foot of the cross where Jesus was nailed thought he was calling out to the prophet, Elijah. One of them offered him a sponge soaked in sour wine. Others suggested they wait to see if Elijah would come to save him. But again Jesus called out… and then he died.

Then we are told that the earth shook, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the most significant event of all… the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom, revealing the Holy of Holies.

The curtain between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place (where no one was allowed to enter except the high priest on only one day of the year) was an elaborately woven fabric of 72 twisted plaits of 24 threads each. It was 60 ft high and 30 ft wide. The significance of this tearing apart was that, on the death of Jesus, there was no longer a separation between God and His people. Jesus had borne the powerful wrath of God for our sins, and fully experienced the hellish abandonment of God. The price was paid, the debt discharged, the way made clear for our legal righteousness before God.

This was no ordinary man, the soldiers and people at the foot of the cross conceded. The centurion, we are told, was filled with awe and said “Truly this was the Son of God!”

These are eye witness accounts. Not just one eye witness, but many.

But what happened on the third day - Sunday - was also remarkable. Despite Roman guards, a special seal, and a 2-ton rock obstructing the entrance, the confirmed dead, thoroughly embalmed (100 pounds of ointment and spices!) and well wrapped body of Jesus emerged alive from the tomb. Again, many eye witness accounts of his solid appearance. No wraith or spirit. He offered himself to be touched, and he ate a piece of fish to prove he was real. Even those who had been hostile towards him, and disbelieving, were convinced in spite of themselves.

So what am I to make of this?

I have a choice - either I can believe these accounts, or disbelieve them. If I disbelieve them, I have some serious problems to resolve. How otherwise to explain these accounts? There have been many attempts, but none of them stand up to rigorous reasonable, logical and forensic scrutiny. Indeed, the whole account, starting with my knowledge of myself and an examination of the evidences provided, has a certain coherence and credibility in relation to each other. For instance, I know I am far from perfect. I don’t know what I can do to rid myself of objective guilt - the reality that I frequently betray my conscience and break laws of all kinds - other than accepting the solution offered by the Jesus of Holy Scripture.

Jesus requires a personal commitment to Him if I am to accept His offer of legal righteousness before God. He bore my sins, and in exchange, I am imputed with His righteousness in the eyes of God. He makes all things new, and gives me a new life. This must involve a relationship. It is not a mere assent to the truth of these things, but an involvement with Him in the most intimate and personal of ways. He commands obedience - an obedience to His commandments to love God with all my heart, mind, body and soul. And in turn, to love my neighbour as myself. I am to love with Godly love, the unselfish and humble giving of myself to Him and to others. This is a very tall order, but it is a response to the great love He showed in giving Himself for me (and you) in this way. And that is just the beginning of the story… there is far more yet to come.

Easter Sunday. The celebration of the Resurrection of Christ. Many sceptics have become Christians while attempting to refute the Resurrection. To present all the evidences here would take too many words. The significance and explanations surrounding them have been debated strenuously, and the proof evidence presented continues to point to the only reasonable conclusion, namely, that Christ rose bodily from death.

To follow these evidences and the arguments every way concerning them, click on the following links. Go on, I dare you! Sceptics and scoffers beware. If you are prepared to give honest consideration to what you read here, prepare for (at very least) a seed of doubt to enter your disbelief.

Evidence for the Resurrection by Josh McDowell
Evidence for the resurrection of Christ by Peter Kreeft
Evidences for the Resurrection by J. Hampton Keathley III, M.Th.
Evidence for the Resurrection from “Contend for the Faith“, an Apologetics and Theology Resource.

A comment from Peter Kreeft, Ph.D., professor of philosophy at Boston College:

The historical evidence is massive enough to convince the open-minded inquirer. By analogy with any other historical event, the resurrection has eminently credible evidence behind it. To disbelieve it, you must deliberately make an exception to the rules you use everywhere else in history. Now why would someone want to do that?

Ask yourself that question if you dare, and take an honest look into your heart before you answer.

What best to do with the Easter Bunny… and who thought babies didn’t eat chocolate?

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He asked his disciples to watch with him and pray. Instead, they fell asleep. This was the night of terrible anguish and agony, knowing as he did what was to come.

Just the physical pain on its own would have been enough. The flaying with a whip, its sharp pieces of lead cutting his flesh to the bone. His body already ripped and bleeding, the exhaustion of struggling to carry the heavy cross to his place of execution. The thick iron nails driven through the bones of his feet and his wrists. The lifting up so his body hung on the nails, each breath intensifying the pain. The most cruel torturous death. But there was more… He was innocent. Even so, he was mocked and humiliated, taunted and spat at. But still there was more… far more than just that. This innocent man was to bear the whole wrath of God which would be unleashed upon him.

So in the garden of Gethsemane he prayed, knowing all this. He asked that the cup be taken from him, but he knew that was not going to be. He had come for this purpose, and he would go through with it. “Not my will, Father, but yours be done.”

His friends could not stay awake to be with him one hour… not even one hour.

This past night we took it in turns, just one or two at a time. We came quietly and remained in silence, letting each other in or out of the chapel as the hours slipped gracefully by. There was no such cup for us to drink, our beloved master having already drunk it down to the very last drop. We watched with him in spirit, prayerfully remembering his terrible ordeal.

I stayed five hours, fully awake but mind and spirit there with him among the olive groves. I wondered… would I be like Peter and deny him too? But watching what it did to him, how could I, he who has since willingly borne what I would never now have to bear? He has done that in love, so where would be mine? No, it is not enough to say Thanks and just walk away. In the early morning Peter wept bitterly when the rooster crowed, and my heart went out to him too. The price was paid, the debt is discharged. I belong to him, he now owns my all. The words of the hymn put it well.

Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the tempter’s power;
Your Redeemer’s conflict see, watch with Him one bitter hour,
Turn not from His griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

See Him at the judgment hall, beaten, bound, reviled, arraigned;
O the wormwood and the gall! O the pangs His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; learn of Christ to bear the cross.

(James Montgomery)

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