The Open Concept
Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.
~ Matthew 15:11
Pasqual rubbed the crown of his head and closed the upper cabinet door. He looked at his fingers, but saw no blood. He pulled the door back open and tried to move it up and down. It was not loose. The travel mug he had removed from the dishwasher a few moments earlier was still in his other hand. He set it on the counter, filled it, put the lid on, picked it up, and went to the door. He listened but heard nothing. His loud cursing a moment ago had not awakened his wife Madeira. She was a heavy sleeper.
***
Pasqual had swam across the Rio Grande as a young boy and had never crossed back. For years he had tagged along with his cousins working on farms and getting by however he could. He had become separated from them and decided he liked stealing better than working. Of course, he started small, pinching this and that to get by.
The life of a thief is necessarily nomadic. You stay in one place too long, things go missing, people get suspicious, and you begin to get the eye. It gets harder to unload your goods and liquefy your assets. While the promise of three hots and a cot can be appealing when you’re shivering and the stomach is growling, it’s a bit confining to the freedom loving men among us. Pasqual embraced the role of wayfaring stranger and drifted about.
For a little while his cupboards had been bare and he needed some easy job to put him back in abundance. He easily jimmied the back door of a metal-clad building and stepped inside. In the dim light, he could make out work benches and tools. Power tools and hand tools could always be exchanged for cash. His mind began calculating and he wavered between grabbing quickly what he could carry and conducting a more protracted campaign. This place could be a golden goose for a while if he managed it right.
He was mentally crafting the mission statement for his new enterprise when a loud click and bright lights registered their objection to the proceedings. He turned to look upon a man with one hand on the light switch and the other noticeably close to a revolver on the man’s hip. This intruder, this interrupter of Pasqual’s dreams, was thick and as wide as he was tall. He owned a pair of piercing, dark eyes and Pasqual noticed he wielded them to great effect. He did not yet know it, but those eyes belonged to Ernesto of Ernesto’s Custom Cabinets. This was his shop and he seemed prepared to defend it to the last gram of sawdust.
Pasqual could not explain why, but he was broken under that gaze. He turned to a jelly and told his life story and confessed his life of crime. Ernesto listened patiently and, for reasons equally inexplicable to Pasqual, did not grip his pistol nor raise alarm for the police.
“What is your name?” He said.
“Pasqual.”
“And where are you from?”
“Juárez, but I left there when I was a boy.”
“Ciudad Juárez? Your family is there?”
“I have no family. I am an orphan. I ran away from the orphanage with some others. They said we were cousins, but I do not know.”
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
Pasqual thought Ernesto rather monosyllabic as an orator, but after a few moments of silence, he concluded the Q&A portion of the night’s program was ended. He was unsure of himself. He thought he should perhaps raise his hands in the air, or maybe he should kneel down and put his hands on his head. He did not know what was next on the bill but he was reasonably certain it would impose certain requirements on his hands. He took no action, and, I must confess, his logic was sound. Ernesto had made no mention of the position of Pasqual’s hands nor whether his standing position was unacceptable, neither had his hand moved any closer to his pistol. Pasqual remained as he was and held the gaze.
What happened next was extraordinary and you would be enrapt to hear it, but in keeping with the spirit, if not quite the letter, of the short story genre, I shall have to get to the point sooner rather than later. In summary form, the next day began Pasqual’s career in the cabinet making industry. Ernesto put him to work and Pasqual became the son he never had. Pasqual learned quickly, worked diligently, and advanced apace with his potential.
***
Pasqual rubbed the crown of his head and stared at the open cabinet door. You will recall that a mere ten hours earlier he was in this same position. He was less concerned about the loud cursing he had expelled because the snores coming from the recliner in the living room assured him that Madeira was sleeping soundly as usual. He heaved a big sigh and marched out to his truck. He returned with a curled upper lip and a 20 volt lithium powered Dewalt drill in his hand. He moved deftly as though he were thoroughly skilled in the operation and removed each door from the upper cabinets. He hauled them to the bed of the truck and they bounced off the spare tire and clattered to rest in the same.
Time passed, as time is in habit of doing whether you are enjoying yourself or not, but Pasqual was enjoying himself in the kitchen. The lower cabinets were properly closed and sealed, and the upper cabinets were as open as the U. S./Mexico border in the 1950s. Pasqual was able to use his head for more than testing the tensile strength of wood screws and cabinet door hinges. Though he had gained rather more experience than he wanted in the occupation, it was not a future he wanted for himself.
After a while, an idea formed he considered flawless. Surely he was not the only one to stand up in a kitchen and meet the bottom corner of the upper cabinet door with the sensitive crown of his head. If he had solved his own problem by removing the doors, he could solve the same problem with the same method for other head rubbers and cabinet door cursers. The idea simply could not fail.
By this time, Ernesto was aged and what you would call, set in his ways. Pasqual pleaded with him to begin marketing and selling upper cabinets sans doors, but Ernesto would not hear of it. That was not the way things were done. Pasqual eventually made his case to other cabinet makers and you would have thought a scab crossing a picket line would meet with warmer reception. As the sun began to set on Pasqual’s own life, it looked as though his genius would be buried with him and lie undisturbed and undiscovered.
***
In Pasqual’s Abrahamic years, he had rejoiced at the birth of a son, Carlos. He cherished the boy and always called him, “Mijo Carlos.” Where Pasqual had failed to save the sensitive crowns of the world, the fruit of his loins had risen up to give his ideas the attention they deserved. Carlos had learned the cabinet making industry and excelled his own father. He opened his own shop and enjoyed great success selling people on, The Open Concept Cabinet™. Carlos had led the sensitive crowns of the world out of the wilderness of nasty knocks and into the promise land of unfettered cups and plates and safe soft heads.
As to be expected, there remained a segment of the population unconvinced. You always have the detractors and wet blankets to deflate the room of joy. Someone unexpertly observed, “Aren’t those just shelves?” What are you going to do? That’s the trouble with people. They just can’t get a grip on the new ways.
Champurrado for Breakfast
As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool returneth to his folly.
~ Proverbs 26:11
Esposita sat at her kitchen table with a small bowl of champurrado. She stared through the steam above it at the grain of the table beneath it. It had pits and marks, but they were only surface scars. The table was thick, heavy, and sturdy. Nomo had built this table. She could jump up and down on top of it and it would be unharmed, unmoved. She glanced around the kitchen and thought of how Nomo had built this house piece by piece. Every part of it was built by his hands or put there by them. How many times had he fixed that sink? Even the dingy yellow light bulb, embarrassed by the white sunlight flooding through the window, had been screwed into the socket by Nomo.
Nomo had been her husband for many years. Nomo was a nickname Normando had borne from his earliest days, after his parents finally named him. Nomo had selected a plot that was the highest spot in their mountaintop village. He cleared the land, dug the foundation, laid the pipes, and built his house. He was now ready to marry, and Esposita was the only girl in the world. She would be proud to have such a husband and live in such a house, which was the crown of the village and meticulously maintained.
Esposita remembered many good years. She had never lacked anything. She had material to make clothes. She had wheat to make bread. She had corn, beans, and rice. She had te de poleo and horchata. What more could a poor girl want? Sometimes Nomo would bring home chickens or goats and they would have delicious meat. She had never been hungry.
Nomo was always the same. She could not remember him ever laughing, though she tried to make him. He did not daydream with her or chat about nothing. Nomo spoke evenly of what was done and what was to be done. When villagers would ask Nomo how he was, he always responded, “Con vida.” If Esposita ever spoke of particularly enjoying anything, he would correct her. “We have life. It is enough.”
Esposita traced her finger around the rim of the bowl. The steam was barely there now. She and Nomo had champurrado their first morning as husband and wife. The smile she had been wearing was losing its fight and the corners of her mouth fell. Though she could not complain about what she received from Nomo, she always fell short of his expectations. She blew the steam and put both hands around the bowl. She had never given Nomo children. This was her greatest fault in Nomo’s eyes. It was a weight affixed between her should blades that made her begin to look like a swayback old burro that had borne too many heavy loads of bread to the market.
When Nomo died she had felt as though an internal knot had been untied. Not a knot, but the knot. The knot that held all the strands of her inner being together. Though her skeletal frame was as it was supposed to be, she felt floppy inside like a limp water hose with no water running through it. Her own death must be soon.
***
Espa, as she was now called, had first met Salvador at the market. All his friends called him Sali. She had set out that morning with no purpose. She would go to the market, but she had no money. She would not beg. She had never begged. She would not steal. She had never stolen. She wasn’t even particularly hungry. She could not explain why she went to the market. Espa would’ve said that she did not go to the market, but was rather brought to the market.
She came around a stall and ran into a mango. Well, she saw the mango first and then the hand that held it. She looked up into a youthful face with kind eyes and a wide smile. “Here, for you.” She did not speak. “I’m Sali. I want you to have this.”
Nothing had changed with Espa. “I … I have no money.”
Sali laughed. “I would not take it if you had it. This is for you.”
Espa took the mango. “Gracias.”
Marriage to Sali was like a dream. He was always happy and she enjoyed life more than she had ever imagined. Sali provided wonderful foods for her to make and she ate as she never had. Sali hired everything done. He hired men to build his house. He bought furniture and decorated their home with bright cheerful colors. He hired a woodworker to carve them a beautiful table that seemed always to have bread and wine on it.
Espa wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but one day she thought of Nomo. She had not thought about Nomo in many years. Thinking about Nomo began to work on her. She started making her own clothes again and left the fancy clothes Sali had bought in the closet untouched. She sought out simpler foods and made them smaller portions. She painted over the bright colors and had her old table brought in to replace the one Sali had hired out to have made. Piece by piece she remade her house until it was as close as possible to the one she had lived in for so many years.
One morning she awoke and Sali was not there. He did not come home until the next day. He would continue to leave and to be gone for longer times. After a while, Espa realized she had not seen Sali in a week, or a month. She couldn’t remember for sure how long it had been. She sat at her table with a bowl of champurrado and realized there were no signs that Sali had ever lived in this house. Everything reminded her of Nomo.
***
A rooster crowed. Espa sat up straight in the bed. It was still dark. The rooster crowed again. Her hair was stuck to her face and she was shivering. Is Sali gone forever? Will I never see him again? Why has he not come home? Why has he not contacted me? The longer she chased those thoughts the more she felt like something was pulling her together from inside her. Her breathing was faster and she had the heart of a rabbit. She ran to the streets calling for Sali. They were mostly empty. After a while, she began seeing people and pleading with them to tell her where Sali was. But they cursed her and pushed her away.
The rooster crowed and a bell rang. Not quite a bell, but a clanging that sounded like a bell. Was Sali at the door? “It’s dawn. It’s time.” She opened her eyes to look through bars at a brown face with a walrus mustache. His name was Severo.
“Where is Salvador?” Espa sat up in the cot.
Severo tilted his head. “Who?”
“Salvador. My husband.” Espa stood up.
“Salvador?” Severo spat on the ground. “There is no Salvador. You were married to Nomo. You killed him three months ago and today is your hanging.” Espa collapsed to the floor, choking and sobbing. “Your grave is ready. You will be buried with Nomo.” Severo set a bowl on the floor inside and closed the barred door. “Here’s your champurrado. I will be back in thirty minutes.”
He who has ears to hear, let him hear.
The World’s Trouble: Chapter 12
And it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment:
– Hebrews 9:27
Chapter 12
Chapter 4 began with a brief statement of the case of Adolf Eichmann. He was executed by hanging on June 1, 1962 for the murder of millions of Jews more than twenty years prior. Eichmann was Hilter’s lieutenant and recognized architect of “The Final Solution,” which was a plan to rid Europe of all Jews. In chapter 4 we were primarily concerned with the consequences of sin and how a day of reckoning is coming for us, just as it did for Eichmann, and will come in the future before God in final judgment. Let’s think about Eichmann’s case from a different perspective for a few moments.
Eichmann’s life was taken by the state of Israel for crimes perpetrated against Jewish people. He was responsible for the torture and death of millions of Jews and so his life was forfeit. Few would argue that his death was unjust. He deserved death for what he had done, but was his death equitable? He was responsible in the deaths of millions and he could only die once. Of course, capital punishment is the strongest sentence a human court can give, so there was nothing more that could be done to him. However, did his death really pay the debt he amassed in Jewish blood? Though perhaps there was satisfaction that justice had been done, were the surviving families in any way repaid or restored what they had suffered and lost? Did Eichmann’s death replace the life of even one Jew? No, it did not.
God’s law teaches that righteousness requires payments and restitution of damages that are equitable. These payments represent a sort of exchange designed to set things to rights once again. If one man stole from another, he had to replace what he stole, or pay the fair value of it in money, plus extra. Of course, with God’s law, capital punishment was the highest punishment that could be given. Life for life and blood for blood. All human laws should be just in this way in order to be just at all. But, human laws are limited and all such repayments and restitutions are limited.
Let’s illustrate the limitations. Say you have a car and sell it to someone else. This is an exchange and it can be equitable. You sell the car and the buyer purchases the car by giving you a fair market value for the car in cash. An exchange has taken place that was just and equitable, and everyone is satisfied. Let’s now suppose a different exchange. Say you are driving on the road and an oncoming car is driven by a drunk driver who runs into you. Your car is totaled and you are injured, becoming a quadriplegic and spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair. Charges are filed against the drunk driver. He loses his license and goes to jail. You are awarded damages, receiving millions of dollars. An exchange has taken place to the fullest extent of the law, yet even if your award was billions of dollars and his penalty execution, are you really restored? Has he made a payment that truly satisfies the damage that was done? No he hasn’t and he cannot. A debt has incurred that cannot be repaid with any amount of money or blood.
When we sin, we incur debt against God. God’s wrath is holy and righteous, and is revealed against all sin. The Apostle Paul wrote, “For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness” (Romans 1:18). Paul proceeds in the next couple of chapters in Romans to show that all men are sinners and all men are under the just wrath of God. This is the same whether they are Jews trying to keep God’s law or Gentiles living without God’s law (Romans 2:1-3:20). Sin brings the wrath of God that culminates in eternal damnation (Romans 6:23; John 3:36). Our offense against God is so great that nothing short of the full measure of his wrath can satisfy it.
Paul has explained this in the first three chapters of Romans and also explained that keeping the Old Testament law, even if that were possible, is not sufficient to satisfy God’s wrath. How can God’s wrath be satisfied? There is only one answer to that question. Near the end of chapter 3, Paul explains how God’s wrath is satisfied.
Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God; to declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.
– Romans 3:24-26
Notice the word propitiation. The word is not commonly used today. It comes from a Latin word meaning “made favorable.” The word coveys the idea of appeasing wrath and restoring favor. Let’s follow Paul’s argument. Justified means to be declared righteous, or declared not guilty. Paul writes a man is “justified by faith” (Romans 3:28), and justification is “freely by his [God’s] grace” (Romans 3:24, clarification added). Paul means that a man cannot earn justification. He has earned the wrath of God, but he has no means to satisfy that wrath and be reconciled to God’s favor.
Paul further explains that justification is “through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:24). The word for redemption means a ransom payment. One illustration of this word would be the paying of the ransom to free a slave. If a man was enslaved without any means of obtaining freedom and another would come along and pay for his freedom, that price paid was the ransom price, or the redemption. Paul specifies the ransom price paid for justification is “his blood” (Romans 3:25), meaning the blood shed by Jesus Christ as a sacrifice for sins. His blood is sufficient to purchase the “remission of sins” (Romans 3:25). In legal terms, remission means the cancelling of a debt or charge against someone. The blood of Jesus Christ is sufficient to pay our sin debt in full, and therefore appease the wrath of God against us and reconcile us to God’s favor. In other words, his death is a propitiation for our sins (1 John 2:2).
I have used some examples of sinners, such as Adolf Eichmann and Osama Bin Laden, because their crimes are on such a large scale it’s easy for us to think of them as guilty and deserving punishment. Even if you’re convinced they deserved to pay for their crimes, do you think their deaths were a sufficient payment? We are limited. After we have executed a high criminal, there’s nothing else we can do. One man’s life hardly seems an adequate payment for the deaths of thousands and even millions. Yet, the Bible teaches we are no less guilty than Eichmann and our blood is no more sufficient than his to pay for our sins against God. This is why we need an atonement that propitiates God’s wrath against us. Eichmann’s death is not the end. He will face God in judgment one day and will pay the price for his sin for all eternity along with everyone whose sins are not covered by Jesus’ blood (Revelation 20:11-15).
This is a portion of a book that I have been writing. I have decided to post it here in serial form. It is intended to be evangelistic. If the book has merit, I may seek to publish it in some form. Please feel free to share it and I welcome any feedback.
If you wish to read all the chapters in order you may do so here.
