It was my third time at the doctor in a single week, and I had rattled off my name, birthday, and address so many times that I had started writing 1995 as the current year. Yet, the nurse caught me completely off guard when she asked, “And what is your religion?”
I must have looked like a heathen because she prompted, “You know, like, Christian?”
If I had a quicker brain, I would have replied, “Sorry, I was just trying to decide if I should say dispensational premillenialist or if I should keep it simple and tell you that I hold to a literal hermeutic.” Instead I said, “Oh…yeah…Christian.”
I don’t want to call this post a conclusion. To me, conclusion brings the idea of the end a story or the closing of a presentation. But this post is not a conclusion because our desire to live humbly should not end after we read this post; we should clothe ourselves in humility for the duration of our lives.
That being said, this series has lasted several weeks, and I think a summary is in order.
When I was little, I loved any song with the word joy, mostly because my middle name is Joye (pronounced joy), and I liked the idea that people were singing about me.
One of the most common Christmas carols with the word joy is “Joy to the World” by Isaac Watts. Surprisingly, Watts’s inspiration was not Luke 2, the account of Jesus’ birth, but Psalm 98, a psalm that praises Christ for His imminent return. That’s right: one of our favorite “Christmas” songs is actually about Christ’s second coming.
Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion knew exactly what they needed: a trip home, a brain, a heart, and courage, respectively. They were also very certain of how they would receive the necessary gifts; after following the Yellow Brick Road, they would find a Wizard who could give them what they lacked. If you are familiar with The Wizard of Oz, then you know that these four travelers all received what they needed, but they didn’t receive what they expected.
The same statement can be said of the nation of Israel.
I have a new favorite piece of art, and I have to admit that the basis of my appreciation is my own interpretation of the artwork. I haven’t researched the piece, so I don’t know what the artist intended for me to understand.