Life Christian Fellowship @ USC

What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?  Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?   — Mark 8:36,37

I stumbled across this painting a while back, and to me, it is an epitome of the old saying, “a picture is worth a thousand words.”

“The Ambassadors,” painted in 1553, is a portrait by a British artist named Hans Holbein.  It currently hangs in the National Gallery in London (and our very own Heather actually saw the painting on her trip there!).

The painting (click for a larger view) is rather unremarkable in that it is like any other painting in its genre — except for the one obvious, strange object in the foreground (we’ll come back to this).  Portraits like these were typically commissioned by a prominent figure who hired artists to mark special occasions, typically of dignitaries.  Remember they didn’t have digital cameras, so it is quite painstaking to produce one of these (these are life-size paintings) — only on special occasions, a painting such as this would be commissioned.

The painting marks a visit by two French ambassadors to England, and it is meant to tell a story about the two men.  From the symbolic objects in the middle of the painting (musical instruments, books, the globe, the “latest” scientific instruments, fine Oriental rug, etc., etc.), we are meant to understand that these men are no ordinary men but are well-educated and highly successful and accomplished in their endeavors–the “trophies” tell the story.  Also from their clothing and the scepter (a symbol of authority) in the right hand, we are meant to understand that these are men who are wealthy and powerful.

It is interesting that we in the modern era can not only understand but identify with this image of success, painted some five centuries ago.  It tells me that our values and ideas of a successful life as a society have not changed much since some five centuries ago; and these values cut across cultures regardless of our background.

What is interesting about the painting is that in addition to being a typical “tribute” painting, the artist added in a clever commentary of his own on the two men.  Take a look again.

So what is that “surfboard”-thing in the foreground?  Although it is an obvious focus of the painting that screams for the viewer’s attention, the two men appear to be completely ignoring it.  To “decode” the image, one would need to stand close to the painting and look at the object at the angle along the length of the “surfboard” (try it first, and if you still don’t see it, see the wiki article) — it is an image of a skull, a symbol of death, “hidden” in plain view (the technique itself is pretty cool).

The commentary seems to be that although the two men have extraordinary accomplishments, they are ignoring one important, obvious issue — their own mortality.  How about you?

A message by the artist seems to be that in light of death, all that we accomplish is meaningless.  But wait — there is another symbol hidden in plain view — at the upper left corner of the painting (see below), we see the form of Christ on the cross.  The overall message of the painting is that the two men, though highly accomplished and decorated, need to pursue Jesus because their worldly pursuits are ultimately meaningless if they would pay attention what lies before them.  Jesus’ death on the cross and his resurrection hold the keys to what the two men are truly pursuing — the answer is so close to them.

Like all great art, this painting causes us to pause and think…

What trophies are you pursuing today, and why?

If Holbein were to paint a portrait about you today, where would the cross be?

What good is it to gain the whole world yet forfeit one’s soul?

Jesus holds the answers.

1998 cover

Stephen Hawking, the famed scientist and best-selling author (I personally think this man is smarter than Einstein), says the following about the limits of science in the foreword to his wildly popular book, A Brief History of Time:

“The whole history of science has been the gradual realization that events do not happen in an arbitrary manner, but that they reflect a certain underlying order, which may or may not be divinely inspired.”

“What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe for them to describe? The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe. Why does the universe go to all the bother of existing?”

“If we do discover a complete theory [regarding the origins/nature of the universe], it should in time be understandable in broad principle by everyone, not just a few scientists. The we shall all, philosophers, scientists, and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of the question of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason — for then we should know the mind of God.”

To summarize, Hawking is saying that science can only answer the question of how the mechanisms of universe work; as for the question of why (i.e., what caused the Big Bang), he is keenly aware that no amount of scientific discoveries can answer that question. He stops just short of saying “It must be God who caused all this.”

Well, the Bible has declared this all along, simply and clearly. Its own “foreword,” the very first line of the Bible, says: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. [NIV, Gen1:1]“

What are some goals in your life? And what is your purpose in life? What’s the difference?

I’d like to think of the difference in these terms: goals equate to “things I want to do/have/be” and purpose is why you set those goals for yourself.

Shortly before I became a Christian, I noticed a pattern in my life–I had set many goals for myself, but had no real purpose for my life. It went something like this: I wanted to graduate near the top of my high school (a goal). Why? Because I wanted to go to a good college (another goal). Why? Because I wanted a good job (yup, goal), so then I can start a family, and then find a place to live, and then retire comfortably, and then… My life was being wasted away chasing after one goal after another, with no real meaningful purpose for my life.

What is your purpose in life? I think most people instinctively know that this purpose has to be greater than the sum total of one person’s desires and wants. When we think of “life’s purpose” we tend to and ought to grapple with things like truth, justice, character, loftiness, sacrifice, compassion, love — some of the best qualities about being human.

So this semester we grapple with these questions in light of what the Bible says we are created for…

In Acts 17, we read that Paul spoke at Areopagus (photo) in Athens, Greece. The Athenians had worshipped many Gods and had erected temples for them, and one of the temples was dedicated to Agnostos Theos, the unknown god. Paul shares the good news with these Athenians, saying that the god they did not know but suspected all along was there was in fact the God of the Bible.

Paul goes on to say he knows that this god “gives all men life and breath(v.25)” and that he is a god who is near, “not far from each one of us (v.27).” How does he know this? According to Paul, the proof lies in the resurrection of Jesus.

This is how the good news first came to some Athenians, and for centuries this is how it came to many who would later come to know God: the simple message of the Gospels is that we have a God who is near, who loves us and gives life — and we can be confident of this truth because God raised Jesus from the dead.

We read from the same passage in Acts that some Athenians who heard Paul that day “sneered” at him and dismissed him. But we also read that there were also few who began asking, “how can this be true?” and “can you tell me more?”

What about you? How would you respond to Paul? Will you be like those who dismissed him saying “bogus,” or will you dare to ask, “how can this be true?” and “can you tell me more?”

See you at the Bible study