Sacrifice

It is loud. It is busy. Blood, warm and fresh, pools on the ground around bare feet. Children push to the front, standing on the fence, straining to get a better view of the slaughtering. The men's hands move methodically, quickly stripping each animal of its hide before moving on. The bull chewing cud in the corner is next, restrained with ropes its life is brought to an end. Its blood poured out. This is the courtyard of the mosque, the sacrifices of the Muslim holiday Idul Adha. It is how Muslim's remember Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his only son, Ishmael (not biblically accurate).

Seeing the sacrifices in the courtyard of the masque for Idul Adha made me think about the sacrifices in the OT temple. I've always had this picture in my mind of the OT temple being sort of like St Paul's Cathedral in London -- big, open, clean, quiet, beautiful. I mean after all, the supplies used to build the temple were cedar, pine, bronze, and gold. Carvings and engravings of cherubim, palm trees, open flowers, lions, and wreaths decorated the walls and doors. There were even pillars with tops shaped like lilies surrounded by pomegranates. Everything was made of gold: sprinkling bowls, wick trimmers, lamps, tongs . . . everything (1 Kings 5-7). However, I think the temple was much more like the mosque I visited for Idul Adha and much less like St Paul's Cathedral. 

At Idul Adha it took at least half a dozen men to hold the ropes for a single bull to be slaughtered. On the day Solomon dedicated the temple there were twenty-two thousand cattle and a hundred and twenty thousand sheep and goats sacrificed as fellowship offerings (1 Kings 8:62)! It must have taken hundreds of men slaughtering from sunrise to sunset to accomplish the offerings that day. The temple must have been a hoppin' place with all the sacrifices made on a daily basis. It must have been loud and dirty. With animal sacrifices there would have been no way to avoid the stench of blood and dung.  Blood -- it must have been everywhere! In the tabernacle, the temple's precursor, blood was sprinkled on the sides of the altar, blood was sprinkled in front of the curtain, blood was put on the horns of the altar, and blood was poured out at the base of the altar (Leviticus 3-7). When Aaron and his sons were ordained they had blood put on their ear lobes, thumbs, big toes, and garments (Leviticus 8). So much for the starched white robes of holiness I imagined!

Women, in the same courtyard as slaughtering were cutting up the meat to sell or give to the needy. Really sanitary right? 

While the courtyard of the OT temple may have been messy, there was a place set apart from the chaos and the noise. This place was known as the Inner Sanctuary or Holy of Holies. There the Ark of the Covenant was kept and only the high priests entered once a year (Hebrews 9:7).  I saw this idea at the mosque as well. Through a doorway from the courtyard was a place set aside for prayer, a place of cleanliness, quietness, and beauty. 

A sacrifice is a chilling event to watch. What moves and cries out in one moment has no breath in the next. After visiting the mosque at Idul Adha, I can no longer read the scriptures about sacrifices the same way. A sacrifice is messy, awful, and such a high, high payment. One life given for another. Christ came to be a sacrifice, my sacrifice. Hebrews 10:10 says, "We have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all." Willingly, out of love for us, Christ suffered the brutality of crucifixion. He endured a flogging so severe he medically should have been at the point of collapse or death. He was then forced to carry his own cross and was nailed to it until death. This sacrifice was horrific and bloody. 

Today is Thanksgiving and I am first of all thankful for Christ's sacrifice on my behalf. The animal sacrifices were never designed to remove sin, but rather to remind us of our sin and the debt we owe (Hebrews 10:3-4). My sin, offensive to a righteous God, had payment. It was not a clean or quick payment, it was barbarous. His life for my life. His breath for my breath. His blood for my freedom. I am SO thankful. I owe him EVERYTHING! I needed this reminder today, to be once again awakened to just how great a price Christ paid for me. 

Lord, help me grasp just how much you have done for me. Make the gravity of Christ's sacrifice fresh in my mind. Do not let me become accustomed to it. Do not let me take it for granted. Remind me oh Lord, that you took my place that it may spur me on to live radically for you. Amen.

Below are some pictures of more localized cultural customs being mixed in with Idul Adha:

Bare feet . . . Indonesia.

We talked with these girls for an hour or more.

Mountain of food, given to the poor

Supposedly, these were baskets full of sticks that symbolized fertility or something...?

Everyone racing to get their stick of fertility, haha, I really don't know what the sticks were for but everyone wanted one!

Batavia

Wow this post is a long time in coming. Back in September, at least I think that is when it was, I took a trip into Jakarta to tour the old city, Batavia. Through out history Jakarta has been under the control of various colonies and had many names. During the time Jakarta was under the Dutch colonial empire it was known as Batavia. I believe today when someone refers to Batavia they are specifically referring to a portion of Jakarta surrounding the former city hall pictured above. While my friends and I were there with a national friend, a true Indonesian who could tell us the history, we were immediately swept up by a "tour guide." 

Right from the get go I could tell this would be no ordinary tour and was I ever right! I mean this was my first tour where I was referred to as "my sister." His name was Jansen. We went from one room to the next. He was a fireball of energy. He sang, he saluted, he squatted, he jumped, he mimicked a mosquito, there was nothing Jansen would not do. His dramatic expression was certainly helpful as his accent was thick. For most of the tour I felt as if we were playing an intense game of charades. Every now and then a word would pop out that I understood like, "Obama," or "superhero," or "Madonna." In fact, I am not even sure how much of the tour was about Batavia . . . anyways, I found myself always staring intently at Jansen trying desperately to make sense of what he was saying. Thats when it happened. He called me a tiger! I know right?!? He said my eyes were intense and I could control others with them. Oh my. I began to feel as if maybe this was not a real tour, especially with all the glances we were getting from other people. Finally, after what seemed like an hour our "tour," or rather game of charades, came to an end. Of course, we paid Jansen, but found out later there are no tours for the city hall. That's Indonesia for you :) 

At the end of our tour Jansen took us to where one of his friends was making traditional puppets. If I had written this post sooner I might have remembered something about the puppets, but I don't. I do know that they are quite time consuming to make and the detail on them is amazing. You can shine a light behind them and have a puppet show on the wall. The story that goes with the puppets is some how connected with Hinduism, but I don't remember the details. 

In addition to looking through the puppet museum and the former city hall we went to lunch at Cafe Batvia. So now I can say that I have done something that was in a travel book! I tried my first gado-gado which is kind of like an Indonesian salad. It consists of boiled vegetables served with a peanut sauce. Afterwards, we went to see the Monas which is Indonesia's national monument. It was built shortly after Indonesia obtained independence as a symbol their fight for freedom. Unfortunately, it was closed and we were unable to climb to the top. 

My day in Batavia was fun. It was so different touring an Indonesian museum. There were ropes, but no one paid heed to them, I mean Jansen even started to take apart one of the bed frames!! There were no camera signs, but everyone was taking pictures. I learned that you pay someone to help you park or to pull out into traffic. Things here just constantly amaze me. I'm certainly having an adventure!

Do you like how "secure" this is? Haha.

Bikes for rent, with matching hats!

A puppet made from the wrong material will eventually bend.

Beautiful details

Borobudur

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to see the sunrise from the top of one of Indonesia's ancient temples, Borobudur. The 9th-century Mahayana Buddhist temple, located in Central Java, is Indonesia's most visited tourist attraction. As I wandered around Borobudur's walkways, I was amazed at the intricate wall carvings. I realized this temple had been a place of worship for an untold number of people. A place of pilgrimage and spiritual significance. Being a polytheistic religion, Buddhists worship numerous gods. Looking at the 500+ Buddha statues on Borobudur, I thought how difficult it must be to have so many gods. I found myself thankful I worship only one god . . . or do I?

Starving

My plate is full. I have hardly had a chance to breathe since starting the school year. I wake up, work, come home, and work some more. My life is school, more specifically math. Sometimes it seems as if every waking thought revolves around math. Even while brushing my teeth or doing the dishes I find my thoughts invaded by logarithms or trigonometry. . . . My plate is full, yet I'm starving.

I've been here before, this isn't new. This feeling of chaos, this unbalanced life. I have poured myself out so completely to something deemed important that other parts of my life have been neglected. I am exhausted physically, mentally, spiritually. 

How is it that I get to this point? I wake up one morning and I realize its been days, maybe even weeks since I stopped to sit and be still before the Lord. Rushed to make it to work my Bible remains on the  coffee table unopened. When I get home I eat dinner while planning a lesson and continue working until finally at 2 am my eyes give in to sleep. I'm giving, giving, giving to my job. At the end of the day I have nothing left. I'm worn. I'm tired.

I have these moments when it all just overwhelms me. When I am convinced there is nothing left inside of me to give. Not another hour, or another day. Work has taken and taken without replenishing. I'm seeking relief, a moment where I don't have to give. A moment where I can just be. An experience that will fill me back up, leaving me with some hope. My soul is yearning for rest.

Jesus said, "Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" Matthew 11:28-29. Despite this promise, I find that when I am empty and worn I turn to everything but Jesus to be filled up. Maybe I turn on a movie, go talk with a friend, surf facebook, or throw myself into household chores. These momentarily distract me, but at the end of the day I am just as empty and worn. Isaiah 55:2 says, "Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare."

Why is it that I completely ignore what promises me the rest I am looking for? Perhaps its because inside I feel bad, or guilty that I haven't been spending time with God. Maybe its because I recognize that my priority and attention has shifted completely to my job? Then again, could it be that I feel it will be awkward because its been so long? Or that we have so much to catch up on it will take an entire day (which I don't have) to get it all out? Whatever the case, its not good enough. There is no excuse that should win out.

My mentor once told me, spending time with God is like eating. If you miss a meal, you don't skip the next, you go eat. I think this analogy can be taken even further. Initially, as the body is denied food only inward discomfort is experienced, but overtime the lack of nutrition is portrayed outwardly. Those neglecting to eat for long periods of time will bruise easily, grow fine hair all over the body, and develop brittle hair and nails. Finally, they will experience organ failure resulting in death. Right now I'm starving and its showing. Slowly I find myself becoming worried, impatient, irritable, negative, and stressed. I need to eat. James 4:7-10 says

"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will lift you up." 

Jesus is beckoning me to come and rest. I have nothing to offer. I am so empty and so worn. I come weary, I come repentant, I come humble. I cannot continue on my own strength. I am wasting away as I pour out without return. It is effecting more than I would like to admit. I must eat.

I don't think I am alone. I don't think I'm the only one out there who is starving. It doesn't matter how long it's been, come and eat. Don't skip another meal. Let Jesus give you rest, real rest. Nothing else will fill you back up. Not friends, not families, not hobbies. "Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare."

Please continue to pray for me that I would seek rest in the Lord and lean on him for strength.

Home

Two months ago I stepped foot in Indonesia for the first time. The first few weeks upon arrival were all about getting settled. After much delay, I am finally posting some pictures of my living accommodations!  Unfortunately, I have discovered that one doesn't magically become a different person when they move half way across the world. Thus, my apartment is just as much undecorated as my apartments in America. Maybe someday when I have the time I will decorate...

I live in a two bedroom apartment on the 37th floor, but yet not the 37th floor...there are no floors containing the number 4 in the building. Yep, that's right, no 4th floor, 14th floor, 24th floor, or 34th floor. Even better, when I decide to visit friends on the 50th floor it's only 3 floors up! Apparently in Chinese the word for the number four also sounds like the word for death. So really due to superstition, I guess you could say I live on 33rd floor. 

I love the view I have from my living room windows. At night I see the city below, alive. The traffic crawling through the darkness, the lights twinkling on the horizon, its beautiful. Sometimes I just find myself staring out my window. 

My cozy living room

My telephone that I have never used.

My table has a glass top to show case something but I don't know what to put inside of it...?

I am very thankful that I have an indoor kitchen here. There are teachers at other campuses who are not so fortunate. Yes my cabinets are sagging from the ceiling and my blue propane tank is unsightly, but at least I get to stay inside to cook! The kitchen does not have any hot water so doing my dishes is a bit different than in America. I fill up a tub with hot water from the bathroom and just rinse with cold.

The knob broke off my oven so they replaced it with a white one. Oh I love Indonesia.

My dishwasher :)

Behind my kitchen is the "helper" room. This room is a living space for those that keep live-in helpers. I cannot imagine someone living in such a small space! Helpers cost about $100 a month. I could split a helper with some other teachers that live in my building but I just haven't gotten around to determining whether I want to or not. I use my helper room as my laundry room. Here in Indonesia there are no dryers, instead of I have a huge drying rack that takes up almost the entire room. 

My washer sings a little song when its done

Soft lighting in the bedroom, love it.

Same ol' yellow toilet seat

New towel rack!

New shelving and storage since there are no cupboards!

Water heater below the sink, no long hot showers :)