April 16: Superheroes

I grew up reading comic books. I can still remember being introduced to them by my childhood friend, Ken, and discovering this imaginative world of people who stood out from the populace because of unusual powers and insights. It never crossed my mind that the trade off for this life was an inescapable wardrobe of spandex; they could fly, shoot things out of their eyes, lift oil tankers and look cool doing it. These heroes seemed other worldly (sometimes they were), even to the other characters. They were better than the world they protected and it did not deserve them, whether or not it knew or acted like it.

More than half of my time of leafing through comics was to learn from the artists on how they drew my heroes. I would spend hours sitting cross-legged at the coffee table trying to improve my renderings of human proportions so that these sketches would look slightly believable. Sometimes I would erase holes through the paper trying to get certain lines just right. There were a lot of failures.

Recently, a cousin of mine asked me to draw her a picture of Batman (which I’ll post on my other blog if I ever do). After a little casual research, I found out that one of my favorite artists from childhood had actually drawn a few issues and that my local library would let me check those out. I read them all today on my travels and found something I had not really expected: great writing. I don’t think I’ve ever turned pages with such eagerness. The art was still phenomenal, but so was the plot. What I missed all through my youth now was inescapable: the heroes on my five-year-old pajamas and lunch pails suffered silently and greatly to be who we loved them to be. What strikes me now is how clearly comic book writers identify this trial intimately with heroism. Part of humanity is that greatness will cost you - our heroes most of all (cf. Luke 12:48; 22:24-27; John 12:24).

The Bible has a significant place for the rewards and praises which God bestows on men. Though not an inspired title, “The Hall of Faith” in Hebrews 11 shows us some of the greatest displays of valor, honor, and faith. Each person there receives his or her acclaim because of belief in God, no matter what he or she had to suffer and give to do so. The hall closes when the author says he lacks the space for a full treatment of the subject and hastens to cover his ground by just listing their trials. In his final phrases, he describes them as those “of whom the world is not worthy” (v. 38); for whom only heaven is the appropriate place (cf. v. 40). If this world does not deserve them, they must be a gift to it, but of what sort?

I still have a certain, nostalgic fondness surface every time I pass the comic book store up the road from my house. I still occasionally visit that world of the imaginary and delight in the artistic presentation of great feats I could never do. But two-dimensional heroes hold the attention for only so long. They are good anecdotes and illustrations, but they eventually become hollow - I want flesh and blood to show me a heroism a man can reach. That’s why I appreciate the Bible; that’s why I appreciate getting to know the people I do - because what I see there are benchmarks of nobility made by men. Not only that, it’s a nobility that I just might be able to reach because of the God I know. These are the heroes, more than the masked ones, worth knowing.

Journal: Who inspires you? Write out a few people and why they do.

March 27:Giving Testimony

I have at least two reasons to believe that Job suffered for my benefit:

1. It is recorded. Paul assures us that ‘whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope’ (Rom. 15:4).

2. The comfort Job received was not only for him, but for us as well (2 Cor. 1:3-8).

So, how does this benefit me? It helps me have hope and I am comforted in who I find God to be because of this one man’s suffering. This isn’t it, however; the hope and comfort are more than we initially think. It seems true to the text that the ‘hope’ in Romans 15 has to do with a sort of personal eschatology - that there is some redemptive ending to whatever presently seems disastrous. This is good, but there’s more: that we can learn from the communication of someone else’s past suffering, though, is also hope-giving. It means that God can use our pain and losses for more than just personal sanctification:

Someone else’s future hope may be buried inside my wounds and tears, awaiting the right time when I unearth and unwrap it to pass on.

My college mentor, keying in on this idea, says, “We suffer for someone else” (cf. 2 Cor. 1:3-8). What Paul (and my mentor) hope we see is that sometimes part of the purpose God has us suffer through Good Friday is to tell them about the surpassing joys of Easter Sunday. The hope we find in Job and other trials in the Bible is not only of future relief, but future service. To put it differently: Not only can we hope that present thirst will be satisfied, we’ll have enough left around to give to another parched soul. Now that’s good news.

What is a story from the Bible which encourages you to endure with hope (other that Jesus’)? Go read that this morning.