by Kathy Brasby | May 24, 2013 | Hope
Vineyards appear throughout the Bible as vivid images. Many references to them appear in the Old Testament and then Jesus used the imagery numerous times in his teachings as recorded in the New Testament.
Harvest season in wine country
We read about the Exodus of Israel described in the language of a vineyard:
You transplanted a vine from Egypt;
you drove out the nations and planted it.
You cleared the ground for it,
and it took root and filled the land. Ps 80:8-9
Later, the prophet Isaiah gives us a image of the vineyard:
I will sing for the one I love
a song about his vineyard:
My loved one had a vineyard
on a fertile hillside.
He dug it up and cleared it of stones
and planted it with the choicest vines.
He built a watchtower in it
and cut out a winepress as well.
Then he looked for a crop of good grapes,
but it yielded only bad fruit. Is 5:1-2
This text, as does Psalm 80, describes Israel as God’s vineyard. We see key statements: The one who dug the vineyard also cleared it of stones and planted it with the best vines. The watchtower was built to protect it and the vine keeper also cut a winepress. He put much work into his vineyard and expected a good crop.
The picture here is similar to Genesis 2 where God forms a lush garden and instructs the man to tend it.
In both Genesis and in Isaiah, people fall short of being good tenants.
Jesus picks up the theme in a parable about the tenants, found in Matthew 21, Mark 12 and Luke 20.
Jesus has just entered Jerusalem on a donkey to a cheering crowd who welcomes him as a king. But the religious leaders challenge his authority and Jesus, after a few interchanges, tells this parable.
The parable relates the story of a vinedresser who worked hard to plant a vineyard, place the protection of a watchtower in place, and prepare a winepress. When the vineyard was ready, the vinedresser turned it over to tenants to care for it. The hard work was already done.
But when the vinedresser sent servants to gather his share of the crops, the servants were turned away. Some were beaten and others were killed.
So the vine keeper sent his son to gather what was his. The tenants, seeing an opportunity to clinch their hold on the vineyard, killed the son.
The vine keeper then killed the tenants and gave the vineyard to others.
Jesus had entered Jerusalem celebrated as a king but the religious leaders questioned his authority. Now he suggests that God, who had planted the vineyard called Israel, was sending his son to collect the fruit. And the tenants were going to reject/kill the son.
The vine keeper expected good fruit; the tenants wanted to be the owners instead.
The imagery of the vineyard, threaded from Genesis where God gave humans the duty of tending the earth, to the gospels where Jesus reminded God’s people of their rebellion, makes for a powerful story.
Consistent imagery cements the emphasis.
by Kathy Brasby | May 22, 2013 | Stories
Google Plus is not dead, although I thought so for months. Maybe you gave up on Google Plus as well.
Then I read an article by Dave Llorens about the future of Google Plus and decided to stir the waters of my account again.
I know, one more social connection to try to maintain.
But the Google Authorship aspect caught my attention. When my name is googled, I want people to find my blog and other connections. Google Authorship ties my photo to my writings and I like that.
The core of the ability to do that is Google Plus.
So I’m giving it a run. I wish WordPress could automatically post blogs to Google Plus like it can to Facebook and Twitter but I suspect that’ll come soon. In the meantime, I have to remember to copy the url from my blogs and paste them in my Google Plus account.
Unlike Facebook, Google Plus members are more focused on business, art, technology and ideas rather than complaints about the boss and the stale coffee. I like that. There are less photos of grandkids but I go to Facebook for those connections.
I scored an information find that I’ll share with you. The chart below came from a Google Plus community, Christian Authors, which is packed with intelligent interaction about writing. As you can see, there’s a lot of help with technology in that community.
If you’re a Google Plus member already, consider adding me to your circle. I’m listed as Kathy Brasby. And if you’re a Christian writer, check out the Christian Writer community.
Now, take a look at the chart about website design and see some content available on Google Plus. Thanks to Tim Young on Christian Authors at Google Plus:
- 8 Compelling Reasons to Use Google Authorship (business2community.com)
- Promoting Content with Google+ (socialmediatoday.com)
- Why You Need Google Authorship Now (business2community.com)
by Kathy Brasby | May 17, 2013 | Bible
When we read biblical narratives, we need to pay close attention to the dialogue. That’s where the action is, so to speak.
Dialogue carries most of the punch of the story. Biblical narratives are tightly written with no extra words. Every sentence does heavy lifting in terms of the message.
Let’s take a look at some dialogue between two brothers. Here’s the piece we’ll examine:
Once, when Jacob was cooking some stew, Esau came in from the open country, famished. He said to Jacob, “Quick, let me have some of that red stew! I’m famished!”
Jacob replied, “First sell me your birthright.”
“Look, I am about to die,” Esau said. “What good is the birthright to me?”
But Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore an oath to him, selling his birthright to Jacob.
Then Jacob gave Esau some bread and some lentil stew. He ate and drank, and then got up and left.
Gen 25:29-34 (NIV)
We almost have what writers call a “talking heads” situation with a little action and a lot of talking.
Because characters are developed through the dialogue, what does the dialogue tell us about Jacob and Esau?
Esau is dramatic and driven by his stomach. He overstates his situation. Is he really about to die?
He also doesn’t value his birthright compared to the immediate need: hunger. So he’s not a guy who looks ahead. Right now is what matters for Esau and his own desires trump anything noble.
Jacob, on the other hand, is a guy who sits at home while his brother is out in the field. Was Esau hunting? Working in the field? We’re not told but he was not sitting at the fire cooking stew.
Jacob’s greed keeps him from ladling up the stew for his hard-working brother? Instead, he proposes an unequal exchange: food for birthright.
Jacob’s conscience doesn’t weigh in, even when Esau agrees to the lopsided deal. In fact, Jacob wants the deal locked in with an oath. Jacob is not a man to be trusted.
In a short exchange between brothers, we get a vivid picture of the character of each man. As Genesis unfolds, we see the consequences of Jacob’s greed and craftiness. He becomes a deceiver, a man of lies and crooked deals. And his first deal comes when he swindles his brother.
Jacob’s transformation from deceiver to father of God’s nation is made more amazing in light of this early exchange between Jacob and Esau.
Biblical dialogue carries forward rich meaning and it’s important to read it carefully.
by Kathy Brasby | May 13, 2013 | Hope
When our hobby farm was at full capacity, we milked several Nubian goats every day. One morning, when I started chores in our milking room, Â my 4-year-old daughter climbed onto a large feed box at the back of the room and peered over the back side.
“Mom, there’s a cat back there.”
Cat (Photo credit: @Doug88888)
Oh, great. There weren’t supposed to be any cats in that room. “Is it dead or alive?”
She studied the gap between the box and the wall. “Dead. Can I pick it up?”
“No!” Yeuck. What now? Why did my sweet husband go to work 40 miles away when it would have been nice to turn that dead cat over to him? I was home alone. Well, me and a curious preschooler.
“Leave it alone,” I added before she got any fresh ideas for exploration. She huffed and crossed her arms but stayed atop the box with her feet dangling on my side.
I drew in a long breath, avoiding any images of this dead cat smashed against the wall. Kind of like not thinking about the purple elephant in the room.
I had to deal with it on my own. Where there any empty feed bags around? How was I going to pick up this thing?
Maybe I milked a little slower that morning. Why did adults get to be the responsible ones?
Believing strongly in the principle that it’s better to face the horror than have it hanging over your head all day, I finished the barn chores and took a deep breath.
Hand sanitizer. Check. Thick trash bags. Check. Facemask. Check.
Back into the milking room I marched, my daughter close on my heels. She wouldn’t miss this for the world. Sigh.
I leaned slowly over the feed box and looked down the gap. There, tattered and soiled, lay a purple and white stuffed cat toy.
“You said it was dead,” I said to my daughter.
“Well, it’s not alive.”
A lesson on the nuances of words. Check.
by Kathy Brasby | May 10, 2013 | Stories
The Bible uses many genres but the most common one is narrative. The many stories of the Bible populate our literature and our imaginations.
Mention the prodigal son and heads nod. We understand the one who wandered away but then returned to a joyous father.
We know the good Samaritan, who defied cultural bigotry to extend a kind and sacrificial hand to another in need.
Let’s look briefly at a powerful story that packs a bigger punch than you might first think.
The book of Ruth, at first glance, seems to be a sweet romance with a nice moral to the story. But let’s go deeper into this amazing narrative.
This is the story of a Israelite woman, Naomi, who travels with her husband and sons from their hometown of Bethlehem in the midst of a famine to the land of Moab. While they live in a foreign country, the husband and sons die.
A woman in that culture without a husband or son was destitute, unable even to transact business.
Left devastated, Naomi decides to return to Bethlehem. One daughter-in-law, Ruth, determines to follow her and so they return with Naomi complaining about what God has stolen away from her. Â She calls herself Bitter and says that she left Bethlehem full and now returns empty.
Ruth, a foreign widow – and her status couldn’t be much lower than that – goes out into the harvest fields to gather up the grain that has fallen to the ground. She took on a servant status out of kindness to Naomi, picking up heads of grain as food for Naomi and her.
While in the fields, she is noticed by the field’s owner, who is impressed with her commitment to Naomi. He extends kindness by providing protection while allowing Ruth to gather in his field.
As it turns out, this owner, Boaz, is a family member – and one who is qualified to rescue Naomi from her problems – perhaps by buying her land or perhaps through marriage to perpetuate the lineage.
There are a number of subtleties in the process but in the end Boaz marries Ruth, provides her with a son that legally is Naomi’s lineage, and heads up the line of King David – and ultimately Jesus.
The book allows Naomi to blame God of cruelties, including afflicting her with emptiness. Yet the book ends with Naomi nurturing her newborn grandson, with Ruth and Boaz both deeply devoted to her.
We get to see how Naomi’s perception of God’s nature changes as we follow her story. Where Naomi says she returns empty, the reader immediately is shown that she returns at the time of an abundant harvest. That harvest symbolizes the fullness God has ahead for her.
The story of Ruth unveils kindness in many ways: from Ruth to Naomi, from Boaz to Ruth, and from God to Naomi.
Naomi thought she understood how destitute her life had become. But she would soon learn the true nature of God, that of abundance and goodness. He restored a family – and her second family became a royal lineage.
The women of Bethlehem, who heard Naomi blame God for her empty status, remind her after the baby’s birth that God provided a redeemer, renewed her life and would sustain her in her old age.
In the end, this sweet romance reveals the kindness of God. That’s the power of narrative.