CHRISTIAN ART

There truly is nothing new under the sun. I went from exhibit to exhibit at the “Picturing the Bible, the Earliest Christian Art” presentation at the Kimball Art Museum in Fort Worth, Texas, totally enchanted. A collection of art from the early church history, starting around the third century when Christianity was sanctioned by Constantine and was allowed to come out of hiding, filled room after room guarded by gallery attendants. The visitors to the museum all walked about reverently viewing the display cases and listening to audio presentations. It was as solemn as a church service.

The early Christians had the same emotions and desires we have in the twenty first century! Things really don’t change as far as humans go. They wanted to bury their dead in style. I thought our coffins could be unrealistically elaborate, but….these sarcophaguses would have been beyond my budget even by the standards of the third century. Marble with detailed carvings of bible scenes depicting salvation. Noah and the ark, Jonah and the serpent, Moses leading his people through the red sea, Jesus raising the dead, Jesus rising from the dead, all images of rebirth, salvation and hope. These were obviously paid for by society‘s elite. We place our 12,000 dollar plus boxes in the ground, while these sarcophagus were placed in catacombs where they could be admired occasionally, at the next burial. Where the dioramas could lead someone else to a life changing decision. I wonder how many artisans came to Christ as they researched their subject matter while etching for long hours bible stories into the marble.

And our mausoleums…nothing compared to the artwork on these frescos in the catacombs. Done by hand they told story after story from the old and new testaments. They were modern day devotionals. Testaments of the faith.

And the statures they used for funerary art, spectacular, intricate in detail. Jonah and the Good Shepherd were popular themes. The statures could also have set on end tables in some family’s house to remind them of the bible and its truths, just like we decorate our homes with crosses and angels. They had lamps to burn oil in, made of silver or clay, shaped like ships with Peter and Paul in them, or the ark with Noah and the animals, similar to our novelty lamps. Ornately engraved silver platters like you can find at any modern day department store to add festive touches to dining. Goblets with Christian symbols for church. Crosses? Oh they had some fantastic crosses. One reliquary gold cross with forty or so semi precious jewels that once held a splinter from the cross of Jesus was specially cared for in a temperature controlled display case. I’m no big believer of things that once belonged to the dead having any miraculous significance but I do know God had the Israelites set up stones in the red sea and alters along the way for memorials, so little reminders of our loved ones go a long way.

Two of the saddest tombstones I saw were of a 22 year old wife and a six year old child (not related). Even back then, especially back then, death hit early and hard. Even back then some parents cried: Why me? Why my son? Why so young? And a husband went to bed alone one night, saddened by loss but proud he was able to provide a marble headstone for his loved one who he knew he’d see again some day.

One question that came to mind though as I walked past sarcophagus after sarcophagus, was …where are the inhabitants. Some one paid dearly for their cherished one to be properly interred and now, the sarcophagus is empty and where are the remains? I see the possessions of deceased people, but no people. How long after death does grave robbing turn into an archeological excursion? If I spent tons to bury someone, I’d want them to stay buried. If I paid for a luxury coffin, I wouldn’t want it to be used freely for show without my permission, something that would be hard to acquire millennia after I die.

Other Items that interested me included the reliquary boxes, made of sheet silver with elaborately embossed scenes from the bible. A reliquary box held the remains of martyrs, or pieces of cloth that might have come in contact with the apostles, or even actual pieces of the apostles. Some reliquaries were buried under churches named in honor of it’s contents. How different are we today? We bury prestigious people in the National Cathedral where the public has access to pay eternal respects. Why? They’re dead. There is nothing special about their bodies. No special dispensation will fall on us for touching their remains. We carry hair snippets of our kids, place cremated remains of dad and mom on our mantels, and get personal belongings of loved ones to hold on too.

The early Christians even wore jewelry just like you and I do. Rings with saints and bible characters. The third and fourth century James Avery’s were kept busy with a growing market. Jewelry made of gold, and silver. Nothing has changed. These were real people who were born, lived, loved, married, had their own children, worked, bathed, dressed up, dined, worshiped and died. They craved the same things we do. Food, prestige, adornment, illumination for their homes, freedom to worship, and a place to be buried where they could find their bodies again at the resurrection.

Yes, I disapprove of grave digging, of intruding into the personal lives of the deceased, but nothing has changed. I’m just as much a voyeur as the next person. Count me in the long line of hypocrites because I do recommend this display of our early church family’s lives as worth paying to see.

Heart Health

(this is a true story)

It started with her carotids; no, it started with her eyes. Ellen (not her real name) had been complaining of seeing spots or floaters in her vision so she made an eye appointment. The eye doctor examined her then referred her to a vascular doctor, go figure. It seems something in the eyes’ blood vessels signaled vascular problems. The tests ordered by a vascular surgeon revealed 90 percent plus clogged carotids( the main arteries to the brain) . In the case you don’t know, that’s not good, it means the brain wasn’t receiving adequate nourishment and could precede a transient ischemic attack (TIA, mini stroke) or full blown stroke. After the studies she was kept in an observation unit till she was fully recovered from the sedatives she’d been given for the tests. When she called me to come pick her up she was scared and refusing to go home. It seemed her blood pressure was too high for her liking and she feared a crippling brain infarction. When I got in to see her, I agreed, her blood pressure needed to be evaluated. The doctor that had ordered the tests informed us that her high blood pressure was a good thing at this point since it was keeping her brain perfused (oxygenated), sending vital blood flow past the clogged passageways.

The next step was scheduling surgery to get her carotids cleaned out. One at a time is the safest approach, leaving one artery alone to work while the other healed. So one side was repaired and six weeks latter the opposite side was fixed. She was off work for two weeks each time, and since we carpooled that gave me a wonderful break even though I checked up on her regularly. Now, I’m no doctor, I’m just a "dumb" Registered Nurse, but I suggested to my friend, Ellen, that if her carotids were so bad maybe she needed to have her coronary arteries (arteries in the heart itself) investigated, they were after all smaller than the carotids. Ever hear the word stubborn? In the dictionary, my friend’s picture is on the same page. She insisted that wasn’t necessary. Well, okay, it was her life so I let it go…until…

A year later, Ellen, now in her early 60’s, started complaining of an ache, not a pain, in her left arm that went up her neck and through her left shoulder blade, she blamed the problem on her trip to Houston and the high humidity. I begged her to go to the emergency room for days. She argued; “I can’t just walk in there without seeing my primary physician!” She was right, she could barely walk from work to our car in the parking garage without getting short of breath. With the shortness of breath came anxiety. Something was wrong and yet she refused to get medical help till she contacted her primary physician who was out of town, she wouldn't see his backup, it was her primary or no one! She saw our insurance rules in black and white. Some people feel like insurance companies get the final say.

“Yes you can! Call his office and the answering machine will say ‘if it’s a medical emergency go to the emergency room!’ ” She wouldn’t do it because it wasn’t a medical emergency! Denial in progress. She was smarter than me. (interpretation, more obstinate )

Did I mention, we’re both nurses, and we both work in surgery? That gave me lots of resources. I got three doctors to try to persuade Ellen to go to the emergency room. No good. Then I got the director of surgery to talk to her, still no good. She finally decided to go after her favorite anesthesiologist persuaded her. I accompanied her and waited till she was assigned an examining room,(after an hour wait in triage, women's symptons aren't always taken seriously!) then told her to call me to come pick her up.

After three hours I called the E.R to check on her only to find out that no one knew who she was. Now I was furious, she must have called a taxi after I left and went home! I called and left several messages on her machine. She didn’t have the nerve to call me back. Then an idea came to me. I called our department conveniently located right above the E.R and had someone go down. There was Ellen still waiting for all her tests results. The emergency room personal didn’t know what the right hand was doing!! At least I was no longer mad at my dear friend. It had been loving anger, but it was anger just the same. She was admitted to the hospital that night. I didn’t feel any better about being right when the next day my supervisor popped into my room at work and informed me Ellen had three severely blocked coronary arteries and was scheduled for emergency bypass surgery later in the day. If she had ignored me and her symptoms much longer she‘d being sitting with Jesus now. Not a bad thing, but why rush it, obviously he still has work for her to do down here. Though her physical heart was damaged her spiritual heart keeps me going, she is the most generous person I’ve ever met and this world would not be the same without her.

That has been several years now, and she is still working and praising the person who saved her life. Me?Of course not, I was the nagger. One of the doctors I convinced to talk to her had become her hero! I may have been the one who pleaded and begged with her, and then got the doctors and director involved but she credits her favorite doctor for saving her life!!

This whole story is to illustrate how important it is to watch out for ourselves. Women, we have different symptoms than men and need to take charge of our health. Our greatest deterrent to self care is denial. We don’t have time to be sick, we care for our husbands, kids, pets ect. The world can’t go on without us so we put our care last. Stop it. The world won’t come to a screeching halt if you step back and look after yourselves but it just might stop if you drop dead in your tracts before your appointed time. And so many things can be done to postpone sudden death. Not all risk factors can be changed, (like age, heritary, sex) but following a regular exercise and diet regimen, and of course giving up smoking, can certainly add years and quality to your lives!

Pro. 11:14
Mark 2:17Luke 5:31
Acts 28:8-9
James 5:15

Heart Attack Symptoms in Women

Heart attack symptoms are different for men and women. some warning signs for women. Very few pre-menopausal women have heart attacks, unless they smoke, have diabetes, or are on birth control pills for a long period of time.
Smoking seems to be the biggest risk factor:
• Nausea and vomiting that won’t stop • Breathlessness (but not sighing) with exertion or especially if it wakes you up at night
• Chest discomfort that starts behind the breast bone and radiates to either shoulder or arm, neck, or to the lower (but not upper) jaw
• Discomfort in the lower jaw especially if it occurs only with exertion or will not go away
• Discomfort in the upper back especially if it occurs only with exertion or will not go away
• Discomfort in the chest or back that occurs when doing usual chores after a large meal • Sudden onset of weakness that won’t go away
• Sudden racing heart sensation with a very fast pulse
• Sudden loss of consciousness
• Physical inability to perform usual household chores Who is most at risk with these symptoms? The more of these factors that apply to you, the greater your risk:
• Menstruation has stopped
• Smoking • Family history of arteriosclerotic heart disease before age 60
• High blood pressure (even treated)
• Diabetes (even mild, even treated)
• Obesity
• High cholesterol (even treated) ???

WWPD: What Would Patrick do?

Over some 1500 years ago a young sixteen year old was kidnapped from his family and country and transported to a land of pagans where he was enslaved. He was taken from a wealthy family, his father was a deacon of sorts, probably for the tax incentive, so Patrick’s home wasn’t necessarily Christian, yet he had exposure. While enslaved as a shepherd for six years young Patrick developed his own personal relationship with God. Hardships and difficulties tend to either make or break the spirit, with Patrick it made him seek God out for consolation. Eventually, God told Patrick it was time to go home,(I wouldn't have needed any prompting on this score!) so he traveled 200 miles over hostile lands to reach safety, from there he returned to Britain and studied religion, a free man again.

Now once home you think he would stay put, but no. This ex slave, this rich boy turned shepherd, turned bishop received a vision to minister to the very people that had snatched him from those he loved and stole six years of his life. I would have questioned that vision. I would have asked, “Why tell me I could come home just to send me back? I was already there!“ I would have argued with that vision. I would have begged for another assignment, but it seems that Patrick was more obedient than I am. After fifteen years and with some learning under his belt he went back to the hills of his oppression. Oh, my gosh, what bravery. What love. No mention of post traumatic stress syndrome here! He spent twenty years, building monasteries, schools, churches and fighting the Celtic druids, Satan’s servants and winning. Sound familiar, read I Kings 18, yet, I haven't heard of a St. Elijah's day, have you? Patrick won souls for God among those that had treated him poorly. He was a exemplary missionary. He had more love than I. Wait! Maybe that is what the six years of slavery were for, to make him aware of Ireland’s lost souls. Providence? Remember the story of Joseph being sold into slavery and saving his family? Have you heard of a St. Joseph's day? Me neither.

Patrick died on March 17th and that has been made into a holy day in his honor. A day for prayers to missionaries world wide. That is well and good, missionaries need our prayers, we all know that. But….where do the green beer, the shamrock and leprechaun come in to this celebration. Once again, Americans have taken something holy and turned it into some thing secular. Something politically correct. The shamrock a sacred symbol representing the birth of spring by the Celts, is now the representation of the God head. Leprechauns, grouchy little Celtic spirits who used their magical powers for good or evil, walk around pubs handing out green beer, after all Ireland is the green land. Oh, and they hide their pot of gold, whereas God wants us to find his riches. Where are the crosses, the signs of Christianity being brought to the lost, remembrances of God’s divine providence? What would Patrick think of this day set aside for him? I’m guessing, and this is just a guess, that he would have favored the day if God was given top billing. If the day brought thoughts of God and our reconciling ministry to the lost. If we used the day going door to door, or country to country, trying to save souls from spiritual death, rather than pub hoping and drinking green beer,(that doesn‘t even sound appetizing to me!)

Instead of walking up to someone and pinching them for not wearing green on St. Patrick’s day, surprise them with something from God. A testimony to save their souls, or a prayer for their health and safety. Give them an opportunity to find what Patrick brought to the lost of Ireland, the gospel of Christ. Or...send money or gifts to your favorite foreign missionary or charity. Saint Patrick’s day is about a man who died for all people everywhere, Jesus Christ himself. It should be a day for all missionaries. Paul, Peter, the apostles; none of them sought extra favors, they knew they were just men doing a king-size job for the King himself.

Oh, and the story about Patrick expelling all the snakes out of Ireland being just a legend., it's true, Patrick practically single handedly (with the help of  his higher power, of course,) banished the old serpent, Lucifer, and his wiggly little minions, from the green isles.

Gen 45:1-8
1 Kings 18:20-40
Math. 28:19-20
Act 10:10-26, 34
2 Cor. 5:18-19