In honor of the last week of school and finals, we’ll be having library-study hours to help you be productive during these last few weeks of school. Study with other epic-ers this week at the library and/or 24-hour room. Use this google doc to see who will be studying at certain times of the day! Also, fill in when you will be studying so others can find you too!

https://docs.google.com/a/ucdavis.edu/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0AjBgXI3NeltUdE5YcWlXWjJQQmU4YnhlR3YyeFNQd1E&hl=en_US

In Christ,
Daniel

M: @5PM AAPI (Asian American Pacific Islander) Flyering in Hart Hall Courtyard
T: Flyering/Tabling at Silo+ MU
W: @5PM Boba Friendzy in Geidt 1003
R: @8PM Large Group in Geidt 1003
F: @5:45 The Buzz at the Quad
S: @6PM EPIC Mealtime in Oeste House
S: @10AM Church; @7:30PM Praise Night in Sci Lec123

Any questions? Email Alex Deng at azdeng@ucdavis.edu!

I remember as a child forming a personal relationship with the alphabet on letter at a time. I had 26 flashcards, and one by one I’d memorize the name of the letter on each card. ABC formed the simple first triad, DEF the almost as simple second. G was the last letter of my last name, although for some reason it always reminded me of my father. Since the most dynamic and flash characters seemed crowded at the end, I’d work backwards at times from ZY and X – a triad so exotic its members rarely, I was told, appeared in words at all. As a memorization device for each letter presented itself, the seemingly infinite catalog of symbols grew smaller and more manageable, and began to collect meanings, my own invented meanings as well as those apparently shared by the rest of English speaking America.

Over the course of my learning, a pattern emerged. The names of the letters always resembled their sounds as they occurred in a word. The letter T was called T because it made a T sound, as in CAT or HAT. The letters Q and U almost always appeared together and made Q and U sounds as in QUIET and QUIT. But suddenly I encountered the problem of W.

This letter not only defied explanation, but it also presented myriad contradictions. Why was it called W? It made the sound wah, not the sound W. W wasn’t even a sound, it was a description of the way the letter looked. If we were going to call this one W, why not call it instead double v? Why not call it M upside down? For that matter why not call X two crossed lines, or O circle? W contradicted the pattern. Furthermore, it was the only letter which contradicted the pattern. Thus I found it impossible to remember.

As I stared at the flashcard W. I knew that a problem had arisen for which logic and reason provided no solution. Three choices presented themselves. I could rename W in an attempt to bring it more in line with the other letters. This was the pedantic option. I could initiate a lifelong boycott of W, and all words containing it, to protest the inconsistency. This was the rebellious option.

The third choice was the most practical, but also the most frightening. I could accept W, and change myself. I could alter my notion of the alphabet. After all, what value in there in relentless consistency. Isn’t the alphabet more interesting with one letter that refuses to conform to the pattern of the other 25? I could go on building words, and one day even sentences and paragraphs, using W as though it were just another letter, but all the time remembering its difference. An unfolding took place inside my body. I knew then the third choice was the road that lay ahead for me, and also I had some inkling of its consequences. I must become W.

Grace doesn’t fit the pattern. Never has, never will. I had to lead a bible study last night about grace, focusing on Ephesians 2:8 and 9. I’ve done this bible study dozens of times, but last night, let’s just say it bombed. To be honest, understanding, receiving, and living out of grace is a challenge. Nothing in the world is like it. It’s just like the letter W. As I think about grace, a problem arises for which logic and reason provided no solution. Three choices presents themselves. I can change the qualities of grace in an attempt to bring it more in line with other ways of life – a quasi blend of wage grace. This is the pedantic option. I can initiate a lifelong boycott of grace, to protest the inconsistency. This is the rebellious option.

The third choice is the most practical, but also the most frightening. I could accept grace, and change myself. I would alter my notion of God and the universe. I pray that you would accept grace, that an unfolding would take place inside your body. The third choice is the road that lays ahead of you, and you must understand the consequences of this option. Epic must become grace.

As a Christian, sometimes the realities of the fallen world are lost in the distractions of this life. As Epic at Davis is going through evangelism training it is encouraging to see students take action toward learning to share their faith. The training is helpful, but it isn’t enough. A heart for the lost must also be cultivated so we aren’t just sharing our faith out of duty, but out of the truth and out of joy in that truth.

So why is it important then to grieve for the lost. It is not something that we should do or have to do. I can’t tell you that you need to grieve for the lost. Grieving occurs as a  response to recognizing the reality that we are living in. Here’s the thing, we grieve for the lost, but we do not pity them. For no one pities one who has died. We grieve for those that died. So it is with the lost, for the lost are dead in their transgressions. We grieve for those we love when they have died; death is understood as a point in time and grieving is a process from that point onward. Over time the process of grieving takes us to a point of acceptance of the current reality.

For us to grieve for the lost is not enough. For the lost who are dead in their transgressions can be reconciled to life through Christ. So our response to those that are dead in their transgression is never pity, not merely grief, but action and intention to share the Gospel which can bring life.

So as we learn to share our faith, take a moment to reflect on what the truth is in regards to spiritual life and death. A couple questions.

1.Why does God grieve?

2.What is the reason for Paul’s anguish and sorrow?

Romans 9:1-5

I speak the truth in Christ—I am not lying, my conscience confirms it in the Holy Spirit I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, those of my own race, the people of Israel. Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen.

Mike

It seemed that almost everyone had expectations, or a false self, to impose on Jesus’ life. In living faithfully to his true self, he disappointed a lot of people. Jesus was secure in his Father’s love, in himself, and thus was able to withstand enormous pressure. He left his family of origin and their expectations of a carpenter’s son and became an innerdirected, separate adult. As a result, he disappointed his family. At on point, his mother and siblings wondered if he was out of his mind (Mark 3).
He disappointed the people he grew up with in Nazareth. When Jesus declared who he really was as the Messiah, they tried to push him off a cliff (Luke 4). He remained self assured in his beliefs, regardless of the outrage of the crowds in his hometown.
He disappointed his closest friends, the twelve disciples. They projected onto Jesus their own picture of the kind of Messiah Jesus was to be. This did not include a shameful end to his life. They quit on him. Judas, one of his closest friends, “stabbed him in the back” for being true to himself. But even though they misunderstood him, Jesus never held it against them.
Jesus listened without reacting. He communicated without antagonizing. Yet he deeply disappointed the crowds. They wanted an earthly Messiah who would feed them, fix all their problems, overthrow the Roman oppressors, work miracles, and give inspiring sermons. Somehow Christ was able to serve and love them, again, without holding it against them.
He disappointed the religious leaders. They did not appreciate the disruption his presence brought to their day to day lives or to their theology. They finally attributed his power to demons. Nonetheless, Jesus was able to maintain an non-anxious presence in the midst of great stress.
Jesus was not selfless. He did not live as if only other people counted. He knew his value and worth. He had friends. He asked people to help him. At the same time Jesus was not selfish. He did not live as if nobody else counted. He gave his life out of love for others. From a place of loving union with his Father, Jesus had a mature, healthy “true self.” This love from God the Father, I believe, was the power that allowed Christ to suffer and die to show the wealth of God’s love and grave for sinners.
The measure of God’s love for us is shown by two things. One is the degree of his sacrifice in saving us from the penalty of our sin. The other is the degree of unworthy that we had when he saved us.
We can hear the measure of his sacrifice in the words, “He gave his only son” (John 3:16). We also hear it in the word Christ. This is a name based on the Greek title Christos, or “Anointed One,” or “Messiah.” It is a term of great dignity. The Messiah was to be the King of Israel. He would conquer the Romans and bring peace and security to Israel. Thus the person whom God sent to save sinners was his own divine Son, his only Son, and the Anointed King of Israel – indeed the king of the world. A person of amazing worth.
When we add to this consideration the horrific death by crucifixion that Christ endured, it becomes clear that the sacrifice the Father and the Son made was indescribably great – even infinite, when you consider the distance between the divine and the human. But God chose to make this sacrifice to save us.
The measure of his love for us increases still more when we consider our unworthiness. “Perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die – but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us,” Romans 5. We deserved divine punishment, not divine sacrifice.
I though about it at our last retreat of solitude. God didn’t die for ducks. He responded to our value as humans. This turns grace on its head. We are worse off than ducks. They have not sinned. They have not rebelled and treated God with the contempt of being inconsequential in their lives. God did not have to die for ducks. They aren’t bad enough. We are. Our debt is so great, only a divine sacrifice could pay it.
There is only one explanation for God’s sacrifice for us. It is not us. It is “the riches of his grace”. It is all free. It is not a response to our performance and worth. It is the overflow of his infinite worth. In fact, that is what divine love is in the end: a passion to enthrall undeserving sinners, at great cost, with what will make us supremely happy forever, namely, his infinite beauty.
So this is my message: to your face, you are not what you do, you are not what you own, you are not what others think. You are loved by God. That is your identity.