Tag: Christian

An Old Christmas Story

FeaturedAn Old Christmas Story

If you prefer hearing me read this, just follow the SoundCloud link at the bottom. Otherwise, read on.

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The sun was sinking slowly into the darkened silhouette of the city a few miles to the west. Its red glow was casting long, stretched-out shadows over the desolate fields that lay just east of town.

Another day was nearly done.

And another year was coming to an end.

It was very cold, and Emerson Dustmire shivered beneath his sheepskin overcoat as he trudged wearily up the dirt road that wound on ahead of him. His broad, wind-burned face was determined and stoic, and only his eyes revealed the restless energy that burned underneath as they darted frantically back and forth, from north to south, scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.

He still had about two miles to cover before reaching his destination, and even though he was freezing, he would still pause every now and then to look back at the sunset behind the city.

Before too long, he would be back in that terrible place that he could only escape through either the magic of sleep—when it could be found—or whenever it was his turn to carry dispatches between the frontline, and the couriers that were lodged in the suburbs that he had just left.

It wasn’t often that something as beautiful as that sunset made itself visible to the human-beings who were wallowing in all the mud, and blood, and filth far below.

You had to appreciate these things when they came along.

The sunlight, and the small bit of warmth that still reached his face after traveling a hundred million miles through space—was, almost, the only reminder that there was something greater above it all—something untouched by the mess that man was making of things down here on the Earth.

Emerson adjusted the dense pack that was slung tightly over his shoulders, sighed heavily to himself as he turned back around, and then continued following the dirt road that was unfurling itself into the Belgian countryside.

He was a long way from home.

A long way from Oxfordshire, a long way from the University, and from people who cared about useless facts, like how many miles of space were in between the Earth and the Sun.

He was a long way from his mother’s concerned voice, and the smell of his father’s pipe after dinner on the last night he had seen them.

He was a long way from his fiancé, the love of his life that he had left behind with nothing but a promise that he would be back soon.

They were all behind him somewhere, hundreds of miles away, back in the civilized world, where men were still human.

That civilized world was slowly becoming a hazy memory as it gave way to the misery of his present living situation. He was now an inhabitant of the world where civilization disappears into the jungle. The only laws here were those of survival. The only magistrates were the rats, waiting to devour you for the slightest infraction.

The war had only begun about four months earlier, and everyone had said that it would be over by Christmas. But here it was, December the 24th, and all hope for a swift conclusion had begun to fade away with the passing of Summer, and been lost entirely with the passing of Autumn.

Emerson Dustmire was part of the 2nd Battalion of light infantry from Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire—which made up the larger portion of the British Expeditionary Force. They had been sent to Paris at the end of August and helped save the city from being overrun by the Germans during the first week of September. From there they had marched north into the French countryside, and then up into Belgium until reaching the town of Iper.

Emerson’s days had melted into a hazy mixture of marching, digging, marching, digging, marching, digging… the monotony of it all was interrupted, here and there, by brief, but deadly skirmishes – short, battles that sprung up quickly as the Germans sought to maneuver around the French and British troops that kept meeting and repelling their advances.

Both sides kept up this senseless ballet of death with each other until they ran out of land to fight over.

With nothing but the Sea to the North, and the Alps on the southern end of the line, millions of men began digging into the earth and creating nearly impenetrable defensive positions.

Emerson’s company had received their orders to stop marching and dig in about a month earlier. So here they were, bogged down in the swampy lowlands of West Flanders, slowly sinking into the mud.

Emerson moved on, thinking of little else except putting one foot in front of the other.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.

His mind began to drift, and he found himself thinking again of his home that was so far away.

He had been led to believe that the war he was fighting was necessary to keep his home and his family safe—a final war, to end all wars and bring an everlasting peace to humanity.

Emerson knew that it was all a load of nonsense. But what choice did he have? They told him he had to go fight. So, he went.

As he crested a small rise in the terrain, the wind shifted and he was struck immediately with the reality of his situation.

Visually speaking, everything seemed in order.

He had reached the medical tents that were situated at the very back of the encampment, several hundred yards away from the trenches on the front lines. Everything was arranged in nice, neat rows, packed tightly together in perfect formation. But with the shift in the wind, the smell had reached Emerson once more—the smell that he hated more than anything.

It wasn’t the medical tents.

It wasn’t the hastily pitched horse stables, or the pig sties on the far end of the encampment.

It was, simply put, the smell of death that swirled through the air and permeated everything it touched.

It was inescapable.

Thousands of men had died in the fighting that took place between the two armies, and most of them could not be retrieved for proper burial.

And so they lay, out in the open, slowly being dissolved by the rats, and the worms, and the rain, with the muddy bacterial bogs absorbing what was left of them.

Emerson trudged on through the rows of medical tents, then began working his way past the French officers and reconnaissance units, past the artillery positions situated on the peripheral, and then finally, after another hundred yards of open field, he began a slow, steady climb up toward the back end of the fortifications that led toward the trenches.

His anxiety was beginning to build.

His heart was beating faster, he was taking larger gulps of air to catch his breath, and despite the chillness in the air, he was beginning to sweat.

It wasn’t his body that was tired and exhausted—it was his mind.

God did not design the human brain to endure the kind of sustained, perpetual waves of stress that man’s technological advances in war-making had conjured up for these modern battlefields.

The constant, sporadic, and unpredictable barrages of artillery shells from the Germans were an ever-present source of fear hovering over every human being and animal in range of their destruction.

Emerson Dustmire’s nerves, like so many others, were fraying under the strain of coping with the thought that either his life would end at any moment, or he could suffer some kind of ghastly wound that would leave him maimed for the rest of his life.

And what was it all for?

Why was all of this happening?

Was there ANY ANSWER to those two questions that could adequately justify the need for millions of Christian men to draw up battle lines against each other and commence with a kind of slaughter that the world had never seen before?

It wasn’t like this was the first time that this sort of thing had happened in human history.

The American Civil War had consisted of Christian killing Christian. Even in Europe, 400 years earlier, in the very place that Emerson now found himself, Catholic and Protestant armies had clashed with one another over theological details that no one could prove or disprove.

As bad as those conflicts were, however, they were nowhere near as devastating as this one had been in only four months of fighting.

Human beings had learned, from somewhere, how to go about killing one another with ease, efficiency, and indifference, in a way that had never happened until now.

Emerson mused to himself that he was feeling a bit like Longfellow who must have been thinking about something similar when he’d written that famous hymn: “And in despair I bowed my head: ‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said, ‘For hate is strong, and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.’

As he approached the back entrance to the dugout, Emerson exchanged a brief glance and a nod with the sentry on guard duty.

“Any news from town?” the old sentry asked as Emerson moved past him.

“Yes,” Emerson replied enthusiastically, and with a sarcastic grin on his face he threw his hands in the air and exclaimed as loudly as he could – “The war is going to be over by Christmas!”

He didn’t stop to hear what the old sentry shouted back to him, but he knew it wasn’t nice, and he knew he deserved such a retort.

When he returned to his section of the great trench, he was greeted silently by two of his buddies from 3rd corps. After exchanging a few words about the weather and tossing them the two cartons of cigars that he had been tasked with retrieving, he slung off his backpack, leaned his rifle against one side of the large tree root that protruded from the side of the trench, and then sat down on a small stack of empty food crates.

He leaned his head back, and gazed up at the night sky.

The sun had finally set, leaving only the deep blue of the heavens pinpointed by millions of stars.

Finally at peace, for a few seconds, he leaned against the side of the earthen wall, pulled his coat around him as tightly as possible, stuffed his hands into his armpits and closed his eyes. Just for a few moments he thought to himself, maybe I can get a little sleep.

When he awoke from his brief slumber he was immediately aware that something was terribly wrong.

Everything was quiet.

Everything was too quiet.

There was no exploding of artillery shells, no cracking of isolated sniper bullets, no cries of men yelling back and forth along the line for ammunition, or food, or cigarettes—there was nothing at all of the normal everyday sounds that had come to define life under these conditions at all hours of the day and night.

Emerson looked around in the darkness for his squad mate Charles, and was shocked to find him halfway up the ladder, peering over the top of the trench, his head completely exposed to enemy fire.

He started to protest, but Charles quickly motioned for him to be quiet.

He leaned down toward Emerson, put a finger to his mouth, and whispered one word to him: “Listen.”

He pointed in the direction of the German lines.

Confused, and still in a daze from his nap, that wasn’t long enough, he sat quietly for a few seconds. Then he removed his helmet and tilted his head to one side.

He heard something, but what was it?

Voices, he thought… not very many voices… but someone was singing.

It was barely discernible at first, and then, slowly, it grew louder.

Then other voices joined in the singing, and a familiar harmony rose into the air above the frozen battlefield. The words sounded different, of course, but the tune was instantly recognizable—

“Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht
Alles schläft; einsam wacht”

Then, from somewhere along the British line, 20 or 30 yards away, English voices began to sing in harmony with the German voices that were now echoing across no-man’s land.

“Silent night, holy night
All is calm; all is bright”

Within minutes hundreds of men, on both sides, were singing loudly into the night sky.

First it was Silent Night, then it was Good King Wenceslas – looking out on the feast of Saint Stephen, when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp, and even.

The singing that had sprung up in the middle of this most unlikeliest of places, in this most darkest of times, continued into the night.

And before long, men had gone up the ladders, pouring over the tops of the trenches – not to exchange gunfire, but to exchange Christmas greetings, and small gifts… the Protestants exchanged tins of baked beans for chocolate bars, and the Catholics exchanged cartons of cigarettes for bottles of rum.

Candles had been lit along the German lines for as far as Emerson could see in both directions.

Men of different languages, different cultures, different countries… men who had been spilling each other’s blood for months, had found something they had in common, maybe the only thing, and it was more powerful than all of the hatred, and all of the destruction that they had leveled against each other.

Well, they had come to their senses,

if for only one night.

They had remembered their place

as people of the Light.

The killing and the dying,

it had come to an end.

In the frost and the darkness

there were no flags to defend.

There was only candlelight,

and warm greetings for those,

who had been trapped inside pits

as they shivered and froze.

They had emerged from their trenches,

like dead men from their graves…

Laying down their weapons,

and hailing the one Lord who saves.

So much evil had happened,

since they’d taken up arms.

So many had died,

since they’d left their families and farms.

If they could only go back,

if they could only return,

to the days that had passed,

before the world began to burn.

And this war to end wars –

Well it came,

and it went…

And not very much changed,

and few knew what it meant.

Those men who defied orders,

on that cold Christmas Eve…

Who left their positions in order to sing…

Most were all dead,

by the following Spring.

And millions went with them;

The death toll was profound.

But on that one night,

some Christians, created a sound…

And it’s reached us all here,

across a century that’s passed…

In our warmth and our comfort,

Having broken our fast,

It was a powerful song that was sung on that night.

It reached Satan and his demons in the depths of their Hell.

They were no longer laughing;

It had broken their spell.

The soldiers had awoken and remembered the truth;

they shared something sacred with those they called foe…

And nothing could change that,

no war far below.

This connection they shared;

It transcended men’s borders.

It was greater and stronger, than some general’s orders.

The kings they fought for, would one day fall down.

They would bow at the feet of the One with the Crown.

But this lesson remains;

For this story is true.

Most of it, that is…

Some details I made up –

but only a few.

There was a Great Christmas, so long ago…

Foretold from the moment of man’s great fall.

And it’s something to ponder

As we deck the hall.

If we ignore it, or we forget it,

Or we don’t ask, “what does it all mean?”

-we might find ourselves trapped

like the soldiers in 1914.

“I am the Light of the World.”

That’s what Jesus said.

That’s why he was tortured.

That’s why he bled.

So, we take his word,

and his teaching to heart,

each Christmas we gather

and do our best to impart –

that this Savior and His Kingdom

are greater than all others,

and the Day of his birth, is a time for sisters and brothers…

Even though we have quarrels –

Even though we all fight –

We have to forgive, and reflect His love –

and his light.

Jesus taught us to give—and to lay down our lives.

He saved us from sin and from evil desire.

And we need it,

because, each one of us, all,

are like Emerson Dustmire.

The End

https://on.soundcloud.com/enYRJ176HY7ppXG5A

BEATLES Mug

Mug - 16My dad really likes this mug. I’ll admit, The Beatles have never been my favorite band, but I do enjoy their timelessly catchy tunes as much as the next average joe. Of course enough has already been said about them and the deep imprint they have left in the history of modern music and culture–I couldn’t possibly say anything new about all that. But for me personally, when I hear The Beatles (or drink coffee out of their yellow submarine), it brings back memories of all the music my dad and mom listened to… Especially the music they listened to when I was a kid, and the stations they would tune into during long trips in our family’s old Astro mini-van. I remember hearing as much Elvis and Creedence Clearwater Revival as I did The Beatles. Sometimes my mom would bring her cassette tapes and Amy Grant would all the sudden find herself doing an encore for The Beach Boys. I was too young to understand or care about the differences. My parents’ music all blended together. One moment we’d be listening to John Denver sing “Rocky Mountain High” and the next we would be hearing tunes from the traveling Gospel quartet who had been visiting our church a week earlier, peddling their cassette tapes along the way. My parents religiously (pun intended) bought the tapes of every person and group that came through our church–I’m not kidding. A few years ago I found a box that had close to a hundred cassettes in it–all from people who had visited our church over the years to share their music.

The point is… My parents didn’t play music, and they didn’t sing either, but they loved to listen and they loved to collect it. And they taught me to explore the art form on my own, and to discover for myself what I liked and what I didn’t. I think I was in 5th or 6th grade when I started really getting into music enough to want to own the stuff I liked. My parents would buy me blank cassettes, and then I would record stuff right off the radio. I remember hearing the DJ on 99.5 WZPL announce a song that was about to come on, and I would dash across the room so I could hit Play & Record on the tape deck. And my older cousins had tapes that they would let me copy. My cousin Toby introduced me to Bon Jovi’s “Slippery When Wet” — changed my life. That was back when Jon Bon Jovi was an actual rockstar, before someone kidnapped him and removed all the testosterone from his body.

My early musical tastes were widely diverse. By the time I was in high school I was practically in love with Amy Grant, because I had been hearing her sing since I was in kindergarten. But that didn’t stop me from listening to Soundgarden or Metallica, and REO Speedwagon when no one else was around. I remember one time I was in an IRC music store with my dad, and he was letting me pick out an album for my birthday–I chose “Appetite for Destruction” by the infamous Guns N’ Roses. He just shook his head and said, “OK, but don’t show mom.”

Like I said, my parents really let me figure the whole music thing out on my own. When I was young, I heard what they liked, and as I grew older, they gave me the freedom and independence to decide what kinds of music I liked. Just because they didn’t like something, or because some dumb televangelist like Jimmy Swaggart said it was evil, didn’t mean they would stop me from listening to it. And I’m so grateful for that now. They never bought into all the crap about “christian” music versus “secular” music, and how non-Christian music was all from the devil. My youth pastor and his wife were the opposite of my parents when it came to music. They were good people, and I learned some good things from them, but their views on music were not among the lessons I chose to retain. I always thought it was kind of funny that they cared so much about it. I mean, at the outset of every trip we took, they would assign a student to go around checking everyone’s music to make sure no one had anything non-Christian with them. It was fascist and imperial. And we all know the proper response to something imperial–(thank you, Star Wars.) So I made it my mission to sneak as much non-Christian music as I could on board the church bus. And I was successful at it too. I was a supplier for the handful of other “rebels” as well.  How did I accomplish this? How was I so great at smuggling contraband past the music police? Simple. My parents would let me use the outer cases of their Christian music CDs and cassettes to camouflage my music on the inside. When they came around to check my music, they would just see Michael W. Smith, Carmen, and of course Amy Grant… Never knowing that inside was Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and The Doors. Well, ok… Some of the Amy Grant cases actually had the Amy Grant cassettes in them.

Of course when I journeyed off to Christian college, things were on a whole new level. There was no actual rule against having non-Christian music, just a heavy fog of rampant judgmentalism toward those who did. I discovered this firsthand when the worship leader who lived next to me in the dorm almost had a stroke after seeing the Led Zeppelin poster on the outside of my door. I discovered it even more when during my second semester, my room was broken into and all the band posters (including a 6 foot Sgt. Pepper’s display) were all ripped from the walls and replaced with notes warning my roommate and I about our impending journey on the highway to Hell. But we had fun with that sort of thing. A few of my friends got together one night and did a live cover of Jimi Hendrix’s Purple Haze for the entire campus. That didn’t go over too well. But anyway… “we all want to change the world.”

And it’s great, what kind of memories a coffee mug can conjure up.

Originally posted on Instagram @ajcoffman and Facebook on December 4, 2014

Winebrenner Mug

Winebrenner Mug
Mug - 08As one of the previous Curry House regulars pointed out yesterday, sometimes these mugs have seen a little more than just coffee and tea. Such is definitely the case with this Winebrenner mug, which has seen its fair share of rice and curry.

It’s hard to think about my time in the curry house without also thinking about Winebrenner–together the two occupied nearly all of my time between 2008 and 2010. We were always grateful that the professors and staff at the seminary encouraged us so much, with many of them even finding occasion to come to our house themselves and share in our weekly curry night meal.

I think what is most interesting to me when I think back on curry night, is that none of it was planned. The four of us guys who lived in the first incarnation of the Curry House had already been cooking and sharing Indian food with our neighbors for years prior to us moving to Findlay. It’s just what we liked to do. It was hard to explain that at times, especially when leaders and pastors from some of the other churches in town would come to visit–always looking for the secret of our success; always wanting to figure out how to duplicate what we were doing. We always told them the same thing… The truth was that we really didn’t know what was happening most of the time, or why. I moved to Findlay so I could attend Winebrenner without having to commute four hours there and four hours back every week. I didn’t expect (none of us did) that within a few months of moving, a hundred people would be coming over to our place for dinner. It was not always that convenient, and there were many times when we didn’t think we could keep doing it (it was kind of expensive for four graduate students), but we continued on, putting ourselves into God’s hands and trusting him to provide–and of course he did. In four years we never had to call off the meal.

For those out there wondering how to do ministry… It’s not as complicated as we’ve tried to make it. It might include going to bible college or seminary, but it doesn’t have to. All you have to do is look at what God has already given to you, and then share it with those around you—for free!

Originally posted on Instagram @ajcoffman on April 18, 2014

Russian Espresso Cup

Mug - 07This cup is really different from the others I’ve talked about. It’s not a traditional mug by any means, but I have had coffee and tea in it before, and it is the perfect size for an espresso shot. I bought this little tumbler at a factory that produces all sorts of similar goods. It was in an old Russian town called Semyonov, which was a few hours from Nizhny Novgorod — where I was studying for the semester.

It is hard for me to believe that was just over 10 years ago now. When I see the way Russia is often characterized in the news, whether because of the Olympics or because of the actions of its government, I just think to myself–that’s not the Russia I remember.  Those aren’t the people who brought me into their lives, into their homes, who took care of me like I was one of them.

Experiencing Russia was a life changing endeavor for me. It challenged me in several ways. Just living in a city was a new experience for me. It’s really too much to go into for a small post such as this, but I have written about it much more extensively before. If you follow this link, or type it into your browser, it will take you to the chapter of a book I finished writing in 2008 about my time in college. This particular chapter can be read apart from the rest of the book, and is a stand-alone story about the time I spent in Russia.

http://crossing-kcu.com/10-walking-in-russia/

Anyway, that’s all for today’s installment. As they say in Russia, “paca.” Until next time.

Originally posted on Instagram @ajcoffman on April 17, 2014

Laura’s Mug

Laura’s Mug
Laura's MugI really love this mug. There is none other exactly like it on planet Earth. It was a gift from my friend Laura, a.k.a. @sweetlauralai (she also painted it herself, which makes it even more awesome). I met Laura at Kentucky Christian University back in 2002. I was skeptical at first. My bros and I were a close knit group. To be honest, there weren’t very many girls that you could just have fun hanging out with on the campus back then. They were either the kind who looked down at you for listening to ‘non-Christian’ music, watching rated R movies, and wearing jeans to chapel services–or they were the kind who just wanted to graduate with their MRS degree. There were some exceptions of course. Laura was one of the exceptions. I realized that when she was hanging out with us dudes one night, and during a conversation she just lifted her leg up and farted really loud–then went on like nothing happened. We were buddies after that. I think Laura was only at KCU for about a year or so before transferring to Johnson Bible College (now Johnson University), but we still stayed in contact and whenever our larger group of friends would come to my parent’s house to visit in Indiana, she was usually there. These days, I haven’t talked to her for quite awhile, but I still remember how fun it was to hang out with such a great sister, and I especially miss those times we would have long talks and pray together. I’m also really happy that this mug has survived all these years intact. I still have plenty more to talk about, and I’ve enjoyed sharing the others so far, but I think this one is my favorite.
Originally posted on Instagram @ajcoffman on April 16, 2014

Taizé Mug

Taizé MugThis particular cup is very unique. It comes from an old monastery in the middle of France known as Taize. A description from their website reads:

“Today, the Taizé Community is made up of over a hundred brothers, Catholics and from various Protestant backgrounds, coming from around thirty nations. By its very existence, the community is a “parable of community” that wants its life to be a sign of reconciliation between divided Christians and between separated peoples.”

I think it sounds like a pretty neat place, and it must be, because every year thousands of people visit the 74 year old Taizé community which was founded during WWII by a man named Brother Roger. Brother Roger himself was stabbed to death in 2005 at the age of 90 while leading the evening prayer service.

If you’re like me, I had never even heard of this place until I was told about it several years ago by a friend who had visited and in the process had acquired this coffee cup for me. The cup holds a great deal of meaning for me, and it harbors a great deal of irony as well. Sometimes, in this journey of life, we become alienated and separated from those we were once very close with… Sometimes, good friends can even become bitter enemies. Sometimes it’s our fault, and sometimes it just happens–and there is nothing we can do about it. But it always hurts. The friend who gave me this cup from Taizé has been long gone from my life, though he was once a very close brother. And even though we were deeply alienated from each other many years ago, I have kept this cup as a reminder of my friend–there is a hope there, however small, and I think of him whenever I drink from this coffee cup — made by the hands of people who have devoted their entire lives to Brother Roger’s vision of bringing together and reconciling Christians who have been divided.

Originally posted on Instagram @ajcoffman on April 15, 2014

Jesus Christ is God

I always look forward to those rare moments that come along where a random interaction with someone leads to a deeper discussion about something serious, or when a seemingly inconsequential series of events culminates into something that is extremely important, or when something that seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things, becomes the prelude to something with fundamental purpose.

I experienced one of these occasions this past weekend when I went to my cousin’s high school graduation party. After I walked in and helped myself to a fine brunch buffet, I sat down in the living room to chat with my older sister and my dad while we watched a slide show of my cousin’s life. There were several people milling about the house, and there was nothing really out of the ordinary at all. It was pretty much what you expect each year when these types of parties roll around. But within just a few minutes of my arrival, everything changed.

As I was sitting on the couch, discussing home remodeling issues with my sister, a guy from my home church sat down in another chair across the living room. I’ve talked with Rob before, and he’s a great guy who I’ve had a few good discussions with in the past. He loves to talk about God. I could tell as I was chatting with my sis, that he was waiting for a break in our conversation so that he could engage me in a discussion. Well, sure enough, as soon as I finished talking Rob began asking me questions. He began with the usual questions about school and what I was studying at seminary. When I told him I was studying theology and church history his eyes lit up and he immediately sent what can only be described as a barrage of theological questions my way.

Rob asked me some good questions, like who is God? And what is God’s name? I proceeded with a brief discourse about the trinity, to which Rob replied by asking me where in the Bible it talked about the nature of God. I quoted a few passages and then went on to talk about some of the erroneous views of Christ, as Rob asked me some more questions. The questions kept coming and the conversation continued into the next half hour or so. After we reached a point where Rob was sufficiently satisfied that he understood what I believed about God, he then informed me with a grin on his face that he did not believe in the trinity, and that he did not believe that Jesus was God.

To say that I was shocked at this information would not do justice to my internal reaction upon hearing this from Rob. I didn’t know what to say as Rob launched into a discourse that involved his misinterpretation of key passages in the New Testament. The whole time he was speaking, I kept thinking to myself, “is this really happening?”

Knowing that Rob was an influential youth group sponsor, not to mention a member of my home church, I couldn’t resist asking him if the elders of our church knew what he believed. He informed me that they did, and that they had told him they didn’t mind as long as he still believed that Jesus was the Son of God. I went home that afternoon in a haze of confusion, unable to make any sense out of the nonsense I had just heard from this guy that I really did have some genuine respect for, and to tell you the truth, I was even a little depressed by it all.  I felt kind of like I had stumbled into the bizzaro world from Superman, where everything is the complete opposite of what it’s supposed to be.

For anyone who doesn’t know, the deity of Jesus Christ as part of the Trinity is a fundamental, basic doctrine of Christianity, and has been since the inception of the Church. This is also referred to as the Incarnation, which means that Jesus is God come into human history in the flesh. It is the foundation of our entire faith. The scriptures are not vague on this particular issue; they are in fact abundantly clear. Even the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who do not believe that Christ is God, have been forced to produce their own separate mistranslation of the Bible in an effort to avoid the point that Christ is God. If Satan was only ever able to tell one single lie, somewhere at the top of his list would be the lie that Jesus is not God. Because if Satan can get someone to believe that, he can get them to believe absolutely anything. Let’s take a look at the scriptures, shall we?

Matthew 1:22 and Isaiah 7:14
“All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: ‘The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’—which means, ‘God with us.’”

Matthew 4:10
“Jesus said to him, ‘Away from me, Satan! For it is written: Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’”

Matthew 28:9
“So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’”

Mark 2:5-7
“When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’
Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, ‘Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?’”

John 1:1-5, 14
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it… The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

John 5:17-23
“Jesus said to them, ‘My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working.’ For this reason the Jews tried all the harder to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God.

 

Jesus gave them this answer: ‘I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows him all he does. Yes, to your amazement he will show him even greater things than these. For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it. Moreover, the Father judges no one, but has entrusted all judgment to the Son, that all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father. He who does not honor the Son does not honor the Father, who sent him.’”

Exodus 3:13-14 and John 8:57-58
“Moses said to God, ‘Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them? God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”

 

“You are not yet fifty years old,’ the Jews said to him, ‘and you have seen Abraham!’
‘I tell you the truth,’ Jesus answered, ‘before Abraham was born, I am!’”

John 10:27-33
“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.’ Again the Jews picked up stones to stone him, but Jesus said to them, ‘I have shown you many great miracles from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?’ ‘We are not stoning you for any of these,’ replied the Jews, ‘but for blasphemy, because you, a mere man, claim to be God.’”

John 12:44-46
“Then Jesus cried out, ‘When a man believes in me, he does not believe in me only, but in the one who sent me. When he looks at me, he sees the one who sent me. I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.’”

John 20:28-29
“A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you!’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’ Thomas said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!’”

Acts 20:28
“Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.”

Romans 9:5
“Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen.”

Colossians 1:15-20
“He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.”

Colossians 2:8-10
“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ. For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority.”

Philippians 2:5-11
“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

1 Corinthians 8:4-6
“So then, about eating food sacrificed to idols: We know that an idol is nothing at all in the world and that there is no God but one. For even if there are so-called gods, whether in heaven or on earth (as indeed there are many “gods” and many “lords”), yet for us there is but one God, the Father, from whom all things came and for whom we live; and there is but one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom all things came and through whom we live.”

Titus 2:11-14
“For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all wickedness and to purify for himself a people that are his very own, eager to do what is good.”

1 John 5:20
“We know also that the Son of God has come and has given us understanding, so that we may know him who is true. And we are in him who is true—even in his Son Jesus Christ. He is the true God and eternal life.”

Hebrews 1:8
But about the Son he says, ‘Your throne, O God, will last for ever and ever, and righteousness will be the scepter of your kingdom.’”

2 Peter 1:1
“Simon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ, To those who through the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ have received a faith as precious as ours:”

Revelation 1:8 and 17-18
“’I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God, ‘who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.’”

“When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: ‘Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.’”

Likewise, the following sets of verses are places where the New Testament refers to Christ by the same designation used to refer to God in the Old Testament:

“First and Last”
Isaiah 41:4; 44:6; 48:12 – cf. – Revelation 1:17; 2:8; 22:13

“Light”
Psalm 27:1 – cf. – John 1:9

“Rock”
Psalm 18:2; 95:1 – cf. – 1 Corinthians 10:4; 1 Peter 2:6-8

“Husband” or “Bridegroom”
Hosea 2:16; Isaiah 62:5 – cf. – Ephesians 5:28-33; Revelation 21:2

“Shepherd”
Psalm 23:1 – cf. – Hebrews 13:20

“Redeemer”
Hosea 13:14; Psalm 130:7 – cf. – Titus 2:14; Revelation 5:9

“Savior”
Isaiah 43:3 – cf. – John 4:42

“Lord of Glory”
Isaiah 42:8 – cf. – 1 Corinthians 2:8

In summation, there is this thing that we Christians believe called the doctrine of the Trinity, which in short means that there is one God, revealed to us as God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.

For anyone struggling to better understand the doctrine of the Trinity, I would recommend a reading of Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, wherein he devotes several chapters to the subject. His discussion of the Trinity helped me a great deal at a time when I was searching for more clarity on this doctrine.