Category: Bible Stories

Gold, Frankincense & Myrrh

Background Passages: Matthew 2:1-12

They have been called, throughout history, magi, wise men, astrologers and kings. While a great many of these royal counselors were sycophants and charlatans trying to stay in good graces with their kings, some were, indeed, learned men, scholars, faithful royal counselors.

Scripture typically paints an ugly picture of astrology, often mocking those who practiced the pseudo-science. (See Jeremiah 8:2 or Isaiah 47:13-15) It is somewhat remarkable that men of this ill-considered standing within the Jewish community found their way to the Bethlehem home of Mary and Joseph, intent upon laying their gifts at the feet of the newborn king of Judea.

Some biblical scholars suggest that God reversed the normal Jewish expectations and drew the stargazers to Judea to open the door, just a crack, for his desire to call Gentiles to Jesus.

Popular images of the magi clash with Matthew’s account. The Christmas hymn We Three Kings gives them titles they did not earn. They were counselors, not kings.

While the travelers from the East brought three gifts, the exact number of wise men who came is not revealed. What is clear in scripture is their numbers were sufficiently large and their quest so politically charged, given Herod’s insecurities, that it clearly created a disturbance throughout Jerusalem.

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and came to worship him.” When King Herod heard this, he was disturbed and all of Jerusalem with him. (Matthew 2:1-3)

The thought of a new king in the pipeline was an anathema to the paranoid Herod, but it drew a murmur of hope among the Jewish people eager to have a king to push out the Roman occupiers.

It’s a story you know because we see it played out in every Nativity scene. After their visit to the palace, the wise men journeyed on a few more miles to Bethlehem. There they found the toddler Jesus and his parents who had escaped the stable and found more permanent residence in a small house in the village.

On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down to worship him. Then, they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. (Matthew 2:11)

Throughout history, giving gifts to a king was a long-standing practice. It served as a sign of respect and honor given to one who bore the title and responsibilities of king.

I Kings tells us that the Queen of Sheba brought a caravan of gifts to the newly crowned King Solomon in Israel.

And she gave the king 120 talents of gold, large quantities of spices and precious stones. Never again were so many spices brought in as those the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solomon. (I Kings 10:10)

Within Isaiah’s bold predictions about the coming Messiah, he speaks of these gifts.

They will bring gold and frankincense and proclaim the praises of the Lord. (Isaiah 60:6b)

Though I find them interesting, it’s not the magi who intrigued me this week, but their gifts. Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh.

If Matthew, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, took the time to specifically record the gifts, there must be a reason why. Each gift, according to folks smarter than me, matched some characteristic of Jesus and his work.

Gold has always been a precious and valuable metal. Gold was made into crowns, stamped and made into coins to be used as currency, and shaped into jewelry. The wise men brought gifts to a king. We can see the connection between gold for a king and Jesus as the King of Kings. They worshipped him as such.

What about the frankincense? Why is this one of their chosen gifts? Frankincense was used by Jewish priests in temple worship and burned as a sweet offering to God. It may be symbolic of the High Priest role Jesus assumes in our hearts. It is also a gift of worship, recognizing Jesus’ divine nature. Seeing him as one worthy of worship, honor and praise.

Then, there is the myrrh, a perfume connected with death and used in the burial process. In Mark, myrrh, mixed with wine, is offered to Jesus as he languishes on the cross. When the women who followed Jesus went to the tomb on that Easter morning to anoint his body, they carried myrrh with them.

While it is an odd gift to give a child, scholars see it as a hint toward Jesus’ sacrificial death. A gift to anoint his body in preparation for burial.

The scholars are probably right to share what those gifts meant symbolically for Christ. As our King of Kings. As one worthy of worship and praise. As one who came to give his life for the salvation of all who would believe.

The gifts point to who Jesus is. How he would live. What he would ultimately do for all of us.

Still, you know me, I read outside the box and between the lines. My journey to Jesus was not as arduous as the one experienced by the magi thanks to the godly examples of my Mom and Dad.

Though I came to him from West Texas, I still must come to him bearing gifts. If Jesus reigns as my King of Kings, what “gold, frankincense and myrrh” can I bring to him today?

What is my gold?

I could speak of tithes and offerings…returning to God a financial portion of that with which he has blessed me and my family. While I need to do that, I think it’s more than just that.

Gold was that thing valued most in the ancient world. A precious gift fit for a king. Bringing gifts of gold acknowledged the kingship of the one who sat on the throne. Maybe my gold is my willingness to declare Jesus as savior. Not just in that initial faith decision, but in the choice to make him the daily boss of my life. To yield and surrender my will to his each and every day. To declare him my Lord and king.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. For what good will it be for someone to gain the whole world but forfeit his soul. (Matthew 16:24-26a)

This is the first nugget of gold I present to Jesus—my heart, my life presented to Christ as I declare him Lord. It is not, however, my last golden gift. Once I declare Jesus as Lord, I give him a life of devotion and obedience.

Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who are brought from death to life and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness. For sin shall no longer be your master because you are not under the law, but under grace. (Romans 6:13-14)

This is the second nugget of gold to lay at the savior’s feet—that the life I offer him becomes an instrument of righteousness.

What Jesus told his disciples and what Paul declared to the Romans is pure gold for my life today. Gold any wise man would give to the Christ-child this Christmas.

What is my frankincense?

The gift of frankincense is about worship, honor and praise. God breathes the sweet aroma of my frankincense when I spend quality time with him. Do I spend time studying his Word and learning how his word applies to my life circumstances? Do I have the kind of conversations with him that reveal my heart and take the time to listen to his spirit? Does my time at church in fellowship with other believers and my time in fellowship with the world around me point always to God? Is the time I give him quality time in devotion and service to him?

This frankincense attitude is the message Paul left with the Ephesians. We give our time and energy to God because he will take that time and do so much more than we think possible. It is to his glory and honor and praise.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all the generations, forever and ever, Amen (Ephesians 3:21-22)

You see, worship is never about us. It is not whether I enjoy the music or the sermon. Worship is about giving glory, honor and praise to God with our whole being…heart, mind, body and soul. It’s about listening for his word, allowing it to make a difference in how we live and treat others.

What better way to worship him and give glory to his name than to walk in his ways? To set aside my own will for his will. To no longer think or act as the world does, but to change my mind and heart to mirror the mind and heart of God.

Therefore, I urge you, my brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice—holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then, you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:1-3)

Presenting my all as a living sacrifice is my frankincense offering to the one who has given me everything.

What, then, is my myrrh?

The myrrh given by the magi represented the sacrificial life and death of Jesus. His great sacrifice of love.

You see, the other gifts of gold and frankincense…my commitment to Christ as savior, my decision to follow him, my choice to worship him in every aspect of life…will be less meaningful if my life is not lived in sacrificial love…my myrrh. Paul says to live without love for God and others is a “clanging cymbal.” All noise. No substance.

The myrrh I give my Jesus means to pour myself unselfishly into the lives of others. To love unconditionally and sacrificially. It is the way Paul chose to serve.

Even if I am to be poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrificial offering of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with you all. Likewise, you also should be glad and rejoice with me. (Philippians 2:17)

Like Paul, our labor for Christ….our gift of myrrh to him…is to pour ourselves into the lives of fellow believers and non-believers. To love them in ways that open the doors for them to come to know Christ as savior and to serve him faithfully.

This is our gift of myrrh.

Committing our life to Christ, worshipping him as one worthy of our praise and adoration and loving unconditionally, without reservation, requires sacrifice of our own desires, our own time, our own energy and effort. It is not easy. The cost of such discipleship is high. Jesus said as much.

Here’s the deal, though. When we give our gold, frankincense and myrrh to Jesus, he does the heavy lifting for us. He offers rest.

Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-20)

The wise men laid their precious gifts at the feet of a two-year-old child in a hovel of a home in Bethlehem, worshipping him as the king.

Their example poses a question for you and for me.

Will you bring your gold, frankincense and myrrh to Jesus?

Deep Roots

Background Passages: Matthew 13:1-23

Reading through the Bible gives us a marvelous glimpse into the teachings of Christ. The truth revealed remains as universally true today as it was then. However, I can’t help but feel that every conversation recorded in the Bible that Jesus has with the people who followed him from place to place is a concisely edited synopsis of what was actually discussed.

I enjoy reading between the lines and imaging the scene unfold. Jesus spent some time one day telling a parable about how differently God’s truth is received by those who hear it. As the day closed, his disciples struggled to understand so Jesus took the time to explain the truth they needed to know.

I sometimes like to put myself around the campfire, listening in on the conversations Jesus had with others. Read the passage in Matthew 13. Then, read the story below. Don’t worry about the format. I promise it’s not poetry. It’s just style.  I certainly don’t know if it happened this way, but it seems to be in keeping with my image of my Lord.

“Like locusts,”
Peter marveled,
“descending on a field of grain.”
The disciple commented on the crowd
gathering for the Master’s teaching.
Another day.
Another multitude.

James.
A disciple of Christ.
The son of Alphaeus.
Not the fisherman.
Raised his head.
Glanced back at the mass of humanity
spreading out across the mountain.
Muttered his agreement.
“Give them credit,” said James.
“They’ve come a long way in this heat
just to hear his words of wisdom.”

James watched Jesus working his way
among the crowd.
So full of energy.
Eager to engage each person on a personal level.

Stretching almost as far as he could see,
hundreds of men, women and children
congregated on the dusty hillside.
Turned its landscape into a
blossoming field of flowing robes.
Stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the man who…
Worked miracles.
Fed thousands.
Healed the infirmed.
Spoke more clearly than any rabbi.

James shook his head in wonder.
Leaning hard against the prow of the boat,
He and Peter
pushed the small fishing vessel
into the warm waters of the Sea of Galilee.
Gave their Master a platform from which to speak.

The multitude settled at last to understand more about
the carpenter turned rabbi.
Many shouted out.
Sought answers to their most pressing questions.
“Who are you exactly?”
“Why are you here?”
“What must we do?”

Questions James heard since the
Jewish leaders began their disinformation campaign
accusing Jesus of every type of heresy under the Law.

James watched.
Jesus waited.
The tide of questions ebbed.
Amid the silence of anticipation,
Jesus pointed to the distant hillside.
“See that farmer?”

The crowd turned to look.
James chuckled under his breath
at the sound of rustling robes turning in unison.

A Farmer.
Stood straight against the weight of the
heavy seed bag tied around his waist.
Every two or three steps he stopped.
Dipped his hand into the sack.
With a casual and practiced flick of his wrist,
he cast seeds across his small plot of land.

“My work is much like his,” said Jesus,
“Sowing seeds of God’s truth to those who will hear.”
As the crowd turned back, he asked,
“Will you listen?”

“A farmer went out to sow his seed…”

James sat at Jesus’ feet as he always did.
Mesmerized
by every word.
Marveled
that the simplest illustration held such elaborate truth.
Awestruck that Jesus could pull a lesson of
immortal value from the
most mundane acts of life.

Sermon ended.
Service began.
Jesus and the disciples moved through the crowd.
Helping in any and every way they could.

James thought about the parable
throughout the day as he worked.
Unsettled.
Uncertain.
Uneasy.
He missed something.
He was sure of it.

At last,
the crowd dispersed.
Jesus sat around the campfire surrounded by
his most trusted followers.
Exhausted from the day’s ministry.
As was their habit,
they sat around the campfire…
Talking quietly.
Reflecting privately.
Discussing intimately.
Debating meaning and intent of the words they heard.

Jesus.
Rested against a fig tree.
Arms across his chest.
Head back.
Eyes closed.
Listening, but not looking.

James.
Shuffled from group to group.
Listened intently to the conversations.
Contributed little as he processed what he heard.
He found himself standing beside the tree where Jesus sat.
More nervous than usual when alone with Jesus.
Kicked the toe of his sandal against a root,
hoping that Jesus would notice his presence.

Finally, he cleared his voice.
“Jesus.
Are you asleep?”

Jesus.
Didn’t move a muscle though
a rueful grin broke across his face.
One weary eye opened.
One eyebrow raised.
“I wish!” He groaned.
Glancing up at the young disciple,
“What do you need,
my friend?”
.
James looked sheepishly at the others around the fire,
feeling inside that they knew things he did not know.
“That parable you told today…
about the farmer…
What exactly did it mean?”

Jesus arched his back.
Pushed away from the trunk of the tree.
Grasp his knees and pulled them to his chest.
Speaking in a voice loud enough for all the disciples to hear,
“Among all men, you are fortunate.
The secrets of the Kingdom of God have been revealed to you.”
James chuckled again as the rustle of their robes
reminded him of the crowd on the hillside.

Closing his eyes as if thinking of the multitude,
Jesus shook his head.
“The others…the people…
I speak in parables to help them understand.
So they can see what they may not see.
Hear what they may not understand.”

He paused for a moment.
Searched their eyes.
Sensed their uncertainty.

“This is what the parable means…”

The explanation.
Lengthy and to the point.
The disciples listened.
Some nodded in agreement.
Some probed with further questions.
James sat silently.
Getting the point,
but still sensing a gap in his understanding.
Innate shyness prevented him from pushing for clarity.

Later.
Jesus leaned again,
alone against his tree.
The others congregated in small clusters around the camp.
Again in quiet conversation.

James.
Paced the edge of darkness.
Hands behind his back.
Deep in thought.
He found himself once again
standing beside the tree.
Silent.
Still.

Jesus again wearily opened one eye.
Raised one eyebrow.
Smiled slightly at the timid intrusion.
Spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice.
“Something bothering you, James?”

The young disciple
leaned against the tree.
Facing east to Jesus’ south.
Slid quietly to the ground,
letting the course bark scratch his back.
He settled in silence into a comfortable spot.

Always patient,
Jesus waited for his friend to speak.
After a moment, James said,
“I get most of it, I think.
You’re the farmer…at work in your world.
The seed…God’s truth. His word.
The different kinds of soil…hearers of His word.
Hard.
Rocky.
Thorny.
Fertile.”
James paused again,
unsure of his next thought.

James pressed Jesus for clearer understanding.
Deeper insight.
About the soil…the listeners.
“How can they hear the same word so differently?”

“What do you think?” Jesus asked,
“always answering a question with a question.”

“The hard soil.
On the surface, no pun intended,” he smiled.
“it seems to talk about the…
Determined opponent of God.
Disinterested in godly things.
Hard. Bitter. Beaten down by life.
Refusing to let any ounce of truth penetrate the surface.
Hardened to any possibility of faith.
Clearly, an unbeliever.”

“But, I think there’s more to it than that.”
Turning to Jesus he said,
“Isn’t it possible a person could be so wrapped up in doing good,
that he may no longer hear a new word from God?
So focused on his ministry that he misses other opportunities to serve?

Jesus.
Eyes still closed.
He said,
“True enough.
Look at the Pharisees.
So busy with ritual they never get to know God intimately.
So involved in ‘worship’ they never practice what they preach.
Worship must be personal.
Must breech the hardness of our hearts
or it’s meaningless.”

Encouraged,
James pressed on.
“The soil on top of rocky ground…
Enough sustenance to sprout.
Not enough to grow.
Some listeners,
excited about the work of God,
try to live it daily.
Yet when crisis comes,
when they fall upon hard times,
they fall away.
Faith withers and dies.”

Jesus nodded.
“We must be grounded,
rooted in our faith,
if we are to withstand the difficulties
we will inevitably face.
Life is not easy.
A true life of faith even more difficult.
Setting our roots means we must be so grounded
in our study of God’s word
that we never lack for spiritual nourishment that sustains.”

James quietly quoted something Jesus said
in another time,
another place.
“If I say I love God and don’t evidence it in my life,
I’m a liar.”

Jesus laughed,
“You have been listening.”

The two men sat in silence for a while as James thought
deeply about what Jesus said.
The disciple took another deep breath.
“Let’s talk about the third soil…
Full of weeds and thorns.
Choking the life out of the good grain.
Bad attitudes and actions strangle life.
Good intentions get choked out by disbelief.”

James.
Energized.
Engaged.
Eager.
Sat cross legged now facing Jesus.
Hands gesturing to punctuate his excitement.
“Lives get smothered by things that ultimately don’t matter.
We nit-pick each other over inconsequential things.
Kill our own spirit and the
spirits of those around us.”

Jesus.
Fully awake and animated
mirrored James’ posture.
Cross legged and leaning toward his friend.
He reached across the distance between them.
Slapped him on the knees.
“Now, you’re getting it!”

Jesus added,
“There is a tendency to lose the joy of salvation.
The dogs of life nip at our heels.
We let bias and prejudice get in the way of loving relationships.
Arguments over things…
great or small…
just don’t matter in the end.
It chokes our relationships.
Get in the way of our ability to love one another.”

Jesus’s eyes danced.
“Go on, James,” he urged,
“What about the good soil?”

James sat for a minute.
Stunned that he was enmeshed in this conversation.

“The good soil…
Fertile.
Rich.
Bountiful.

“Represents those of us who get it.
Those who understand what God desires of us.
Understand more clearly who you are.”
Those who take part in the harvest.
Bringing people to know you.
To accept your truth.”

Jesus.
Shook his head.
“The kingdom needs more people
connected to the vine and
producing fruit.”

James sat back,
basking in Jesus’ praise.
It was a good feeling.

Jesus stared at him with an intensity
he had never sensed from his master.
“Think, James.
“It’s deeper than that. There’s more.
Keep digging.”

James found himself…
Prodded.
Probed.
Propelled beyond
convenience and conventional wisdom.
His mind raced.
Vaguely aware that other disciples had gathered around.
Listening intently to the dialogue.

His finger punched in frustration at the ground beneath him.
“I don’t understand.
You’re not making sen…”
James stopped in mid-sentence.
Sat back.
Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
His mind processing a new thought.

Quietly.
Thinking aloud.

“The farmer broadcast his seed in the field.
The field…
The field…
It’s the same field…
All of the soils.
Hard packed.
Shallow.
Thorny.
Fertile.
They’re all in the same field!”

Jesus leaned in…
Broad smile on his face…

“Sooooo…”

James looked at Jesus.
Tears of understanding welled in his eyes.
“They’re all me.
Every soil is me.
It’s not about how the multitude responds to the gospel,
it’s about how I respond.

I can be at times too hard…
too busy even in service to be of service.
I can be shallow and artificial in faith…
fainting at the first sign of adversity.
I can be overly concerned with things
that don’t matter in God’s grand scheme.
Hypercritical of others.
Or,
I can be productive, fertile…
fully responsive to the will of God in my life.

Jesus looked at James.
Eyes sympathetic and understanding.
“Knowing our capacity for failure is the
first step in avoiding the pitfalls.
Like I said before,
‘All have sinned and fallen short of the
glory of God.”

James wiped away tears with the sleeve of his tunic.
Embarrassed by his display of emotion.

Jesus.
Grasp the hand of his disciple.
Firm and reassuring.
“Don’t worry about the tears, James.
You’re in the good soil now.
You’re just watering your roots.”

I’m not sure about you. This parable speaks to my faith…crisply and clearly. Identifying my life, at best, as a spasmodic attempt to respond to the call of God.

Any honest evaluation of my life shows that I am sometimes…self-absorbed. Too busy acting good, rather than doing good. Sometimes…false and artificial. Exhibiting a show of faith, without the substance of faith. Sometimes…Nit-picky and hypocritical. Judging the speck of sawdust in the eyes of others, while ignoring the plank in my own.

Sometimes…fertile and productive. Stretching my roots into the deep, loamy soil of God’s truth. Fully responsive to his will.

My prayer for me and for you is simply this. That we find time to listen to the voice that tells us we’re missing something important in God’s word. To find the courage to sit at the tree where Jesus sits, asking for clarity and understanding. To dig deeper into familiar scripture. To sink our roots into the fertile soil of truth.

May our tears of understanding water the roots of our faith.

Author’s note: Life intervened this week. While I studied God’s word as I normally do, I could not find the time to write a new word. So, this is a slightly edited version of a study I wrote back in 2016. It served as a great reminder to me to keep digging for God’s truth.

Another Great Question

Background Passages: Luke 6:46-49; Romans 7:15-24

Some of the best teachers I ever had were those who challenged me with probing questions designed to pique my curiosity. It was a method championed by the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates. When teachers ask questions rather than simply provide information, they encourage students to dig more deeply and actively explore their own beliefs.

As good as Socrates might have been, Jesus, I think, used questions masterfully in his teaching to help his disciples see past the letter of the law into the heart of God. His questions almost always opened their eyes to a new way of understanding God’s purpose and plan.

In my last blog, I looked at a question Jesus asked his listeners. “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” After looking into that challenge, I began to look for other questions Jesus asked. I found one in Luke 6 that intrigued me.

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?”

For years, one of my favorite shows on television was NCIS, starring Mark Harmon as Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the leader of a group of federal agents investigating crimes involving U. S. Navy personnel. When one of the agents under his command failed to grasp a key bit of information, Gibbs would often slap them on the back of the head as if to say, “Think!”

That’s what this scripture was to me this week…a slap on the back of my head. Why do I proclaim Jesus as my Lord and still do or not do what I know God’s word teaches me to do? It is a maddening tendency I expect I share with many other Christians.

It’s not a problem unique to me or to this time in history. You can hear the similar frustration in Paul’s words to the church in Rome.

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do…For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do…this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is the sin living in me that does it.” (Romans 7:15, 18-20)

It makes the question Jesus asked even more poignant. “Why do you call me “Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?”

Let’s set the context of Jesus’ question.

Throughout Luke 6, the gospel writer shares a series of teachings of Jesus. If you read through the chapter, you’ll find Jesus talking about the blessings that come from following him and the woes that befall those who go their own way. Luke relays to us Jesus’ thoughts on loving our enemies, turning the other cheek, giving them the shirt off your back and gives a taste of the Golden Rule, “Do to others what you would have them do to you.”

The questions continue to probe our hearts when Jesus asks, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” and “If you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that.” “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Luke continues with Jesus’ teaching on our desire to judge others. “Do not judge, and you will not be judged…Forgive and you will be forgiven…For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” In his message, Jesus warns us to remove the plank from our eyes before we complain about the speck in the eyes of another.

Finally, Luke shares a small parable from Jesus about a tree and its fruit, reminding us that “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes or grapes from briers. A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” (Luke 6:43-45)

After all of those words where Jesus calls us to a different way of life, Luke says Jesus asked our question of the day. “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say?”

Given our proclivity toward sin, it may be best to come to grips with what it means to call Jesus “Lord?”

When we use the term “lord” today, it is typically a verb, not a noun. Someone who abuses their power and authority is said to “lord it over” those who serve under them. It’s a negative connotation.

“Lord” becomes a noun in the Christian context. It is the person to whom we have surrendered our lives, submitted our will to the will of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Substitute “master” or “boss” if it is an easier concept to understand. One possessing absolute authority, power and control. It is a way of recognizing Jesus’ divine and holy position. Head of the church. Ruler of all creation. Lord of lords and King of kings.

When we make our faith commitment to Jesus as our Savior and Lord, we are turning our lives over to him. Surrendering complete control of our lives to his will and way. Submitting to his teaching and truth in all aspects of life. That means doing things, living life, his way…not my way.

When Jesus makes this statement, he is addressing those who have made that decision to put their trust in him. His followers. He’s not talking about the charlatans who pretend to be one of his disciples. He’s talking to those who made a genuine commitment to him but are struggling with living up to the standard he sets for us. He’s talking to me, and I suspect, he’s talking to you.

See what he says after asking his question?

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’ and do not do what I say? As for everyone who comes to me and hears my words and puts them in practice, I will show you what they are like. They are like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent stuck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built. But the one who hears my words and does not put them into practice is like a man who built a house on the ground without a foundation. The moment the torrent struck it collapsed and its destruction was complete.” (Luke 6:46-49)

Jesus drew upon his experience as a carpenter and stone mason to drive home a point. In what has become a beloved children’s Bible story, we find a great truth for all ages. When we decide to place our trust in Jesus, it is the biggest and greatest decision we will ever make. Making that decision is just the first step in making Jesus Lord of our lives.

We must build upon that commitment by becoming Christ-like. Growing in our obedience to his teachings. Building upon the truth he taught. Not just hearing his words but putting them into practice every day.

Why do we call him Lord and still do what we want to do?

Because it’s not easy. The foolish builder in Jesus’ parable, didn’t want to put in the work required to dig into the rock. He was short-sighted. It was easier and much less trouble to build in the sand. It may be easier to keep living the way we’re living before Christ became our Lord, but it brings disaster upon us. It may be difficult to do things Jesus’ way, to be obedient in all things, but that brings unparalleled security in the face of life’s flashfloods.

Theologian William Barclay said, “In every decision in life there is a short view and a long view. Happy is the man who never barters future good for present pleasure. Happy is the man who sees things not in the light of the moment, but in the light of eternity.”

It’s far easier to say the right words than to live them out every day. Yet, that is exactly what we are called to do. So, it takes us back to what Jesus talked about before this remarkable question. We must love those who don’t love us back. Do good for those who do us harm. Put aside our judgmental attitudes. Forgive those who wrong us. Be merciful. In general, treat others as we would want them to treat us.

It’s not enough to give lip service to our faith. Every day must be a concerted, if occasionally flawed, effort to live as Jesus lived.

Here’s the good news. The grace of God does not require us to be perfect. His love and his mercy trump my inability to live as I should each day. His grace gives me another chance to rebuild the shattered walls on a firmer foundation of faith.

After Paul expressed his frustrations with his own inability to do what he knows he should, he praised God for his deliverance.

“What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God who delivers me through Jesus Christ, my Lord.” (Romans 7:24-25)

That pretty much sums it up for me. I don’t want to be one of those Jesus followers who never moves past that initial faith commitment. I want to be one of those hears his word and tries with all my heart and soul to put those words into practice.

Jesus’ question is a great one. “Why do you call me “Lord, Lord” and do not do what I say?”

What answer would you give today?

Why Mary? Why Joseph?

Background Passages: Luke 1; Matthew 1:18-24; 2 Timothy 1:9-10a; Galatians 4:4-5

Because I grew up in church, the Christmas story is a familiar one. It never ceases to amaze me how the story never grows stale or repetitive when I let God speak through his word. After Thanksgiving, my study and thoughts turned to Christmas. When I read again the familiar story, I thought “Why Bethlehem?”

God used Bethlehem to remind me that he can use the most insignificant among us to point the world to Jesus. He used Bethlehem to remind me that I cannot be caught sleeping and miss the opportunity to see God at work through Christ. To be Christ at work.

I read the passage in Luke again this week. A new thought jumped out at me. God could have chosen anyone to give birth to his son. Why Mary? He could have chosen any man to step in as Jesus’ earthly father. Why Joseph?

While I’ll never presume to fully understand the mind of God, think with me.

The birth of Jesus Christ was not a plan thrown together at the last minute when God suddenly realized his people had abandoned him. While the primordial ooze was still solidifying throughout his universe, the omniscient Creator set in motion a plan to redeem his creation, destined by his gift of free will to go its own way. The baby in a manger, who would be the savior on a cross, was always the centerpiece of that pre-existent plan.

Paul proclaimed it in his second letter to his protégé Timothy.

He has saved us and called us to a holy life, not because of anything we have done, but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our savior, Christ Jesus… (2 Timothy 1:9-10a)

God knew when to hatch his plan. He knew he had to wait until just enough of the world was ready to listen with open hearts and minds; ready to receive the gift he would send at that perfect moment in time to redeem those who recognized what he was doing through Jesus Christ.

When the set time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law, that we might receive adoption to sonship. (Galatians 4:4-5)

I can almost see the Creator staring into the future in search of the woman who would bear the part of himself that would become the salvation of the world. There must have been thousands upon thousands of suitable women to consider as the mother of God’s son.

One might expect his eyes to fall on a woman like Elizabeth with impeccable credentials from a line of ancestors descending from one of Israel’s patriarchs. A woman married to a prominent rabbi, a man of wealth and influence. Scripture tells us Elizabeth was “righteous in the sight of God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and requirements of the Lord.” (Luke 1:6) He didn’t choose Elizabeth…or anyone like her for that matter.

Instead, his scrutiny extended beyond the time of the law and prophets, into the time of the Roman occupation until it settled on Mary, Elizabeth’s cousin, a young woman without prominence…from a town with no consequence…in a country of little significance.

So, why Mary?

Certainly, the plan had been laid out for centuries as Paul tells us in Galatians. God pegged her from the beginning. To let us know who he had chosen, God’s prophecies described her in detail. The mother of the Messiah would be a virgin living in Nazareth with a reason to give birth in Bethlehem. She would be descended from David and married to someone from the same Davidic line.

Mary checked off all the boxes laid out in scripture for the mother of Christ, but Luke tells us the real reason she was chosen. When God scanned the future and his eyes settled on Mary, she simply found “favor with God.” The prophecies stood only as the backstory he created to validate his choice.

In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1:26-30)

Did you hear it? Did you hear the reason? Before the world began, the Creator’s all-knowing eyes and heart scanned the future and he saw Mary and he liked what he saw in her. He favored her. The Greek word for favor found in these verses is charin. It can also mean favored for this cause, for a purpose.

When God saw Mary, he saw her as someone he could call to serve for the specific purpose he had in mind. He chose to extend his favor to Mary by being with her. (The Lord is with you.) Making his presence known. Standing with her throughout the difficult life to which he called her as the mother of God’s son.

Why Mary? What did God see in her that made him want to extend his favor to her. I think you find it in her response after hearing the news shared by the angel. After the angel told her of her Holy Spirit induced pregnancy and that the child born would be the Son of God, the Messiah, and that his kingdom would know no end, Mary’s response revealed her heart.

After the initial shock wore off and with the soothing reassurance offered by the angel, hear the obedience and trust in her response.

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” (Luke 1:38)

The Creator God who sees the end from the beginning chose Mary long before the prophecies were uttered because of the depth of her faith and her willing heart. She was the right woman in the right place at the right time with enough faith to be open to God’s call…willing to let him be at work in her life.

Hang on to that thought. We’ll come back to Mary in a moment. Now, consider this.

Why Joseph?

When God first found Mary in his search through the future of humanity, he found her pledged to be married to Joseph. Like Mary, Joseph held no position of power or wealth. He lived an ordinary life, devoid of the prestige one would expect as the father of the Messiah.

Watch how he responds to Mary’s unexpected news.

Mary tried to explain the unexplainable when she shared the shocking news of her pregnancy with Joseph. When he could not imagine the unimaginable, Joseph could have subjected her to public disgrace and even had her stoned to death. However, he never seemed to seriously consider those options.

A righteous and honorable man, Joseph instead decided to handle things privately. Desiring to avoid making Mary an option of ridicule, humiliation and gossip, he chose a quiet divorce.

In Joseph’s private intentions, spoken only in his heart before his head hit his pillow that night, God saw in this simple carpenter the strength of character and unmeasured grace he needed in the one he would choose to be the earthly father of the Son of God. God saw in Joseph a man of compassion, humility, faithfulness and mercy. Characteristics Jesus would see modeled by his earthly father as he grew in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man. (Luke 2:52)

While scripture doesn’t say it this way, I think Joseph found favor with God…just as Mary did…just as Jesus would someday experience. That’s why God sent his angel to ease Joseph’s mind.

But after he considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins”…When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary as his wife. (Matthew 1:20-21, 24)

I hope you see the same obedience, faith and willing heart that I see in Joseph when he woke up the next morning. He no longer doubted Mary’s experience. He heard the same words of comfort she heard, telling him to have no fear of what the future holds. No second-guessing God’s purpose. No second-guessing God’s plan. He just willingly accepted in faith and obedience the role God asked him to play.

So, we look at this couple and ask why?

Why Mary?

Why Joseph?

Mary and Joseph go down in history as simple, ordinary, everyday people through whom God chose to do an extraordinary thing. He chose them because he saw something in them that let him know they were strong enough to handle the difficult role of being the parents of his only son. They had the choice to say yes or no to the call. He chose them because they made themselves available to the will of God in their lives. Willingly and without reservation.

He did the same for all of us. Before time began, he looked into the 21st century and identified me and you and set aside the work he wanted us to do.

We aren’t called to raise the Messiah from the cradle to the cross, but we are called to raise him up through the power of the testimony of what he has done in our lives. To do the things he has called us to do with the same faith, obedience and willing heart demonstrated and modeled by Mary and Joseph.

So, the question is less about why Mary or why Joseph? Here’s the question that matters.

Why you?

Why me?

Whatever he’s called us to do, it was important enough for God to set it before us. Let’s be faithful in the doing. Willingly and without reservation.

Finding Your Mephibosheth

Background Passages: 2 Samuel 9:1-7 and Galatians 5:22-23, 25

Small acts of kindness can make a huge impact. A smile, a thoughtful word, a warm muffin found on a desk, or a hug can make the sun shine brighter and the day seem better. That’s the premise behind the idea of Random Acts of Kindness.

Started in Denver, Colorado, in 1995, the idea behind Random Acts is to somehow make the world a better place by making kindness a part of our everyday lives. It’s a nice sentiment. The world needs to be a kinder, gentler place.

As one who has received these random gifts of kindness throughout my life, I understand the impact. To limit kindness to a blueberry muffin, however, diminishes its impact.

Those who study words tell us that “kindness” has its origin in the Middle Ages. In the language of that period “kind” and “kin” were the same. It seems to suggest that to demonstrate kindness was to treat someone like kin…like family. That presents the term in ways that can hardly be random.

As often happens, the idea of kindness has bounced around my brain for a couple of weeks. I was recently asked by my church to share a thought on the character of David at our Wednesday night Bible study. In the course of preparation, I rediscovered the story of David’s interaction with Jonathan’s disabled son, Mephibosheth. The story reveals much more about kindness than any random act.

For years the schizophrenic and paranoid King Saul chased after David to eliminate the one whom God had chosen to take his place. He saw David as a threat. Despite numerous opportunities to do so, David could not raise a hand against Saul or his family because of the deep bond of love and friendship David developed through the years with Saul’s son, Jonathan.

In a particularly difficult time in David’s life, Jonathan went behind his father’s back and told David of Saul’s plan to kill him. David pledged to always look after the family of Saul and Jonathan. Years later, Saul and Jonathan are killed in battle. It now appears that all of Saul’s male descendants have died.

Now king of Israel, David felt the emptiness in his life without Jonathan. Hear David’s heartfelt plea in 2 Samuel 9:1.

“David asked, ‘Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul to whom I may show the kindness of God?’”

“The kindness of God.”

The choice of those words struck me. Why not just, “Is there anyone left of the house of Saul to whom I may show kindness.” David’s kindness. A random act of kindness. Instead, the phrase reads, “kindness of God.”

Let’s go back to the definition. In her book The Kindness of God, Catholic theologian Janet Soskice made the link between “kind” and “kin.” She wrote, “To say that Christ is ’our kind Lord’ is not to say that Christ is tender or gentle, although that may be implied, but to say that he is kin…our kind.”

It’s an interesting twist if indeed to be kind meant to be kin. The kindness of God within this context means that God became my kin…my family…my father. Through Jesus’ sacrifice and my faith commitment, I become part of the family of God.

David’s desire to show the kindness of God indicates his wish to find someone whom he could love and treat as family. As the story unfolds in 2 Samuel 9, David finds a sole survivor…Mephibosheth, a young disabled boy, hiding in fright in a remote village on the other side of the Jordan River.

David had the authority, power and historical permission as the victorious king to put Mephibosheth to death. He didn’t do that. When he found Mephibosheth he called him to Jerusalem, not to enslave him or kill him, but to extend God’s kindness to him.

“Do not be afraid for I will surely show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan. I will restore to you all the land that belonged to your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.” (2 Samuel 9:7)

David did not extend a token gesture. His offer was extravagant. He gave Mephibosheth all that once belong to Saul and a place in his household. What an extreme act of kindness and grace!

What he did demonstrated love toward someone who did not deserve it, could never earn it and would never be able to repay it. His kindness or kin-ness made Mephibosheth a part of David’s family…someone invited to sit at the king’s table.

If this idea of kin-ness is at the heart of kindness, then it seems to require us to see others in the image of God, worthy of our honest connection, regardless of life’s circumstance. It seems the ultimate act of kindness and kin-ness is to invite people to be a part of God’s family…to welcome them to the table.

Kindness, then, is more than a random act. It is that thread of unfailing love that ought to be the lifestyle of any child of God seeking to live as the image of God in a cruel world.

The amazing thing is that God, through his indwelling Spirit, gives us the capacity for exactly that kind of godly kindness. Paul points out that the life of a Christian ought to reflect the character and nature of God as revealed by his Spirit.

“But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control…Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” (Galatians 5:22-23, 25)

The thing about the fruit of the spirit is that, unlike the gifts of the spirit which are given to each of us uniquely and individually, God doesn’t give us different fruit based on our personalities. He does not allow us to pick and choose which fruit we get to live out. He expects us to live out each one…each day…in every circumstance of life…to live by the spirit and keep step with the spirit.

Sadly, we live within a cultural pandemic of condemnation and judgment, characterized by a lack of kindness. Those who live a life of kindness, of kinship, look every day for the next Mephibosheth. They look for someone to show “the kindness of God,” not just as some random act, but as an intentional choice to let someone sit at your table. To build relationships. Meaningful connections. To create opportunities to show the love of Christ in the things we think, say and do for them. To be kind, to be kin, is to love as Christ loved.

Don’t you see, God is kind because he cannot be otherwise. It is his nature. When we give our lives to Jesus and open our hearts to God’s spirit, kindness becomes a part of our new nature. It is the make-up of that “new creation” that Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians 5:17, a reflection of God in us.

The English poet Roberts Burns said, “It is the heart benevolent and kind that most resembles God.” David’s innate and God-inspired kindness was one of the reasons he was called a “man after God’s own heart,” God’s choice to be Israel’s king. His kindness made him a great ruler.

According to Mark Twain, “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” I suspect it is a language that will make even those who find it hard to walk in the presence of the King leap for joy.

What about you? Is there anyone out there to whom you can show the kindness of God? If you keep asking the question, God will bring you one Mephibosheth after another who needs your kindness…your kin-ness.

God simply asks that when we find our Mephibosheths, we invite them to eat at our table.

Behold, The Wonder of Christmas

Background Passages: Matthew 1, Luke 2, John 14:27, and Philippians 4:7

I am not sure how I ended up on their email list. Like other unwanted SPAM messages, the first one just appeared. Maybe Alexa overheard a conversation I had with Robin about the definition of some obscure word. When the first email for Word Genius arrived, I opened it.

The daily emails give a “word of the day,” tell its origin and its part of speech, define it, and use it in a sentence. Then, it will show a line graph revealing its height in popularity of usage over the years.

For example, today’s word was illation.

Illation is a noun. It comes from Latin, originating in the 16th century. It’s definition: “An action of inferring or drawing a conclusion; an inference.”

The chart shows that the word illation had its period of highest usage at the turn of the 19th century. It has fallen out of favor over the last 221 years.

If you’ve come to the illation that I decided not to unsubscribe to the Word Genius emails, you are correct.

Other new words I’ve learned from Word Genius recently. Tellurian. Craquelure. Hypocoristic. Precator. I could tell you what these words mean, but if you look them up, you’re more apt to remember. (I just had a flashback to my high school English teacher Mrs. Brown.)

Today, however, I have two much more familiar words for you that come from the story of that first Christmas. Behold. Wonder.

Now, I can’t remember the last time I used the word behold in a sentence before today unless I was quoting the Bible. It just doesn’t come up much in today’s conversation. Take it out of its context in the King James Bible and behold is a rather obscure word in today’s English.

Behold derives from the Latin observo, to keep. Its definition is “to fix the eyes upon, to see with attention, to observe with care.”

Think John 1.

“Behold the lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world.”

It can also mean “to fix attention upon an object, to attend, direct or fix the mind upon.”

Think Revelation 3

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock.”

Terry Sellars, pastor of First Baptist Church, Ludowici, GA, wrote about the significance of behold in the Christmas narrative. We see the word used most often in the Bible as a directive, expressing command or an exhortation.

I think that’s why the word caught my attention as I read the Christmas story. When we think about the importance of the Christmas story we must first go back to the Old Testament prophets. This whole idea was not a last-minute course correction by God to the world’s troubles. It was part of his plan from the beginning. Isaiah told us so.

“Therefore, the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

As the events unfold centuries later, we hear Gabriel breaking the news to Mary.

“And behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.” (Luke 1:31)

After momentarily processing what Gabriel had revealed to her, Mary responded to the frightful, but delightful, good news.

“And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her. (Luke 1:38)

Next we hear the praises of the busy angel who appeared to the shepherds, declaring the wondrous news of the savior’s birth.

“And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not: for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” (Luke 2:10)

We hear the word again in the testimony of Simeon who had waited his whole life for this one moment.

“And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, ‘Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel.”

Behold isn’t just an exclamation. It isn’t God saying to us, “Listen up, please!” It is an imperative. A command. It is a “fix-your-heart-and-mind-upon-this-above-all-else,” moment.

We get so busy doing things at Christmas that the “behold” comes across as a whimpering whisper of a suggestion when it ought to be shouted from the mountaintops with clear authority. For this is that historical moment when God’s love came down with heavenly intent. It’s not just Christmas. It’s the beginning of God’s gift of salvation to a lost and confused world.

Here comes the second word. Wonder. Because we no longer hear the behold as an imperative, we’ve lost the “wonder” that is Christmas.

Wonder is not an archaic word by any means. I often wonder where I left my keys. I wonder when this pandemic will ever end. I wonder why bad things happen to good people. I wonder a great many things.

I am not talking about that kind of wonder. I’m talking about the wide-eye sense of amazement that was so much a part of our lives at Christmas when we were kids. As secularized as Christmas has become over my lifetime, I do remember the absolute wonder of laying out that old Nativity scene under the tree. The wonder inspired by the familiar Christmas carols: Away in a Manger. Silent Night. O, Little Town of Bethlehem.

Those times of being agog and filled with awe of the aura surrounding Christ’s birth was a time when we believed with all our being that God had entered the world for one purpose. To love us so much that he gave his only Son that whoever chose to believe in him would have life abundant and eternal.

We tend to lose that sense of wonder during the hectic moments of life. I find myself struggling to find wonder at a time when my family is hurting. I know others who feel the same worry and angst. Sellers also wrote in a separate piece that in such times as these, we need to remember that even as their worlds turned upside down…

Mary wondered.

Joseph wondered.

The shepherds wondered.

The angels wondered.

The wise men wondered.

While they may have wondered in the sense of trying to figure out what the things they experienced might mean, I think they also experience a sense of wonder…marveling at how blessed they were to be a part of God’s great story. We are a part of God’s great story.

Maybe it’s time to get it back, despite the issues we face, to the wonder of what Christmas means. The Christmas story doesn’t end with the baby in a manger. It doesn’t end with a cross. It doesn’t end with an empty tomb.

It lives on in the faith of those who believe God’s love is strong enough to overcome life’s darkest moments. It lives knowing that, even when life is a struggle, we are not alone. The wonder of Christmas is that God, through Jesus Christ, not only shared his gift of salvation, but also the gifts of his presence and power in the most brutal of times.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)

In those moments of clarity amid the struggles, I no longer wonder in the context of being uncertain. Instead, I marvel in wonder at the work of God and the peace he can bring when I entrust everything to him.

Behold the Wonder of Christmas.

 

Enter His Gates

Background Passages: Mark 11:15-17; Psalm 100:4

If we aren’t careful, reading scripture can become too common place. We hear or read a story enough times and Jesus becomes a two-dimensional character we place on the felt board of our lives as the story unfolds.

When we’re able to make Christ real, the story fleshes itself out in colorful, three dimensions that gives us a new way of looking at God’s truth and inspires us to live life more abundantly.

Three verses in Mark. Four quick sentences. These 78 words tell the story of Jesus physically clearing the temple in a moment of righteous anger. It is an intense passage. I don’t know that it happened exactly like I envision it, but you don’t know it didn’t. Read with the intent of learning what it means to make his house a house of prayer and inclusion.

She shuffled inside the temple through its eastern gate,
caught in a stream of
hurrying humanity.
Pressing.
Pushing.
Prodding
An exhausting effort to
pass through the portal.

The massive crowd created an instant bottleneck.
at the narrow opening
Hundreds tried to enter
like sheep herded into a pen.

The petite, elderly woman.
Jostled.
Jolted.
Jammed through the gateway.
Once inside,
some hurried soul shoved her to the side.
Knocked her off balance,
scraping her wrist of the rough, stone wall.

She scanned the courtyard of the women,
rubbing the abrasion on her hand.
Blaring noise.
Braying animals.
Barked insults.
Smells and sounds stunned her senses.
Every face that passed reflected a patience worn thin
by long lines.
Angry haggling.
Inhospitable hearts.

Slowly she meandered through the booths,
handing over her temple tax to a scowling priest.
Paying her pennies
for a sacrificial dove.
Exorbitant fees left two coins in her bag.

A Jewish convert from Syria.
A trip of a lifetime.
A demanding and dangerous
journey to Jerusalem.
In her heart,
worth every toilsome step to pray
to the living God.
In His home.
His temple.

Pictured this moment in her heart for years, but
she never expected such…
unholiness
in this most holy place.

Passed through the masses
deeper into the Court of the Gentiles.
Seeking a quieter place to pray.
Hawkish vendors pawed at her arms.
Plying their wares.
When she did not buy,
they pushed her away.
Cursed her family.
Cruel words.
Contemptuous sneers.

She moved again,
longing to feel God’s presence in
his temple.

Once…
Someone arguing at an elder of the temple
broke her reverent conversation.

Twice…
Someone yelled at her
as she settled to her knees.

Three times…
Someone shoved her against the wall
as they jockeyed for position.

Tears flowed down her wrinkled face.
Tired.
Traumatized.

Disillusioned.
Disheartened.

*****

A few minutes before,
Jesus and his disciples entered the temple court
through the same eastern gate.
A long journey from Capernaum
in obedience to the call of Passover.
The last Passover
before the passion
of the cross.

Jesus steeled himself against the revulsion he felt
every time he entered the unruly atmosphere.
Particularly rowdy and quarrelsome this year.

Muttered to his disciples
“How can anyone worship like this?”

Worked his way through the crowd
Brushing aside the moneychangers and sellers.
Hearing the relentless haggling over
price and
product.
Anger boiled with each passing moment.

Jesus’ head snapped to a commotion on his left.
An elder in the Temple.
Shouted and shamed
a man who refused to pay the asking price for a
blemished lamb.
A lamb unsuitable for sacrifice.
Unworthy of God’s blessing.

Too late Jesus stepped to intervene.
The elder drove the man back
with fisted rebuke,
pushing him into and over an elderly woman
kneeling at the wall,
offering her prayers amid the
chaos and confusion.

The master could tolerate no more.
Grabbed two cords from a vendor’s stand.
Wrapped them around his wrist.
Held tightly in his calloused hand.
A crack of the improvised whip.
A shout that bounced off the temple walls,
Jesus cried out,

“Enough!”

People spun around.
Stared.
Shocked.

The old Syrian woman backed against the wall.
Avoided the man in the dusty robe as he charged by.
She watched in awe as he…
Moved quickly to a moneychanger’s table,
tossing it aside as if it were made of papyrus.
Scattered a bag full of coins
across the dusty ground.
Pushed over a nearby fence holding a small herd of sheep.
Drove them toward the gate and
outside the temple

People scattered.
Ran from the man with furious eyes.

Above the din,
she heard again…

“Enough!”

Picking up an armful of cages holding the doves,
the man shoved them forcefully
into the arms of a temple guard.

“Take them and go!
Now!”

The elderly woman startled in fright.
A burly merchant jumped in front of the man.
Beefy hands stretched out to stop him.
Eyes intent on malice.

The man with the whip froze.
Held the index finger of his right hand
inches from the merchant’s face.
Dark eyes glared at the storekeeper.
An explicit,
unspoken
message.

“Don’t even think about it!”

The merchant cowered.
Grabbed his possessions.
Fled toward the gate without looking back.

The woman stood with her mouth agape.
Fascinated by the
presence and power
on display.

As he encountered each Gentile worshipper,
he looked intently into their eyes.
Urged them,

“Please wait.”

Then, in a whirlwind of God’s wrath,
He turned to another merchant,
driving them from the temple.

A swirl of dust.
The man stretched out his arms.
Grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden gates.
Watched the mass of fleeing humanity.

“My Father’s house is for all nations a house of prayer.
You have turned it into a den of thieves!”

“Enough!”

Slammed shut the doors.
Sealed the ensuing silence
into the courtyard of God’s temple.

The elderly woman and dozens of desiring worshippers
Stood still.
Shaken.
Silent.

*****

Jesus stood still at the entrance
breathing heavily.
Head bowed.
Tears of sadness stained dusty cheeks.
Rubbed his eyes and face
as he calmed his emotions.

Troubled worshippers…
Clung tightly to one another.
Clustered in tiny groups,
gathered across the courtyard.

Shocked priests…
Huddled in the far corner.
Trembling in a mixture of
terror and temper.

Stunned disciples…
Stood slack-jawed amid the overturned tables.
Astonished at the demonstration of physical power
never seen from their Lord.

Jesus looked at his closest friends.
Exhaled deeply.
Puffed out his reddened cheeks.
Shook his head slightly and…
with visible relief, winked.
“I’m okay.”

Jesus scanned the silent assembly.
Looked intently for the elderly woman caught in the middle.
He found her.
Crouched in a corner.
Leaning against the wall.
Knees pulled tightly to her chest.

He sat down beside her.
Smiled a self-conscious grin.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,
but I know you came to worship our God.”

They sat for a moment in silence. Jesus breathed deeply.

He pushed himself upward,
pressing his back against the stone wall.
He took her hands.
Led her to the center of the courtyard,
calling for the others to join him.
In the stillness of that moment,
Jesus led them in quiet prayer.

He motioned to the frightened priests.
Signaled them to quietly accept the offered sacrifices.
One by one.
The worshippers relinquished their tribute.
Moved to a quiet place.
Offering private praise
to the Lord Almighty.

Jesus watched the prayerful pass.
Spoke quiet words of encouragement.

The old, Syrian woman
moved slowly in the line of worshippers.
Waited for her moment to offer her dove to the priest.
As the line moved slowly forward, she
stopped in front of the man who cleared the temple.
With a look of gratitude
she raised a shaking hand, translucent with age,
placed it delicately on his cheek.
Patted it twice.
Inner joy bursting forth in a near toothless smile,
erasing 20 years from her elderly features.

Laughing quietly,
Jesus offered his arm.
They shuffled to a quiet corner.
Knelt together in the dust.
Offered more words of praise and worship to the Father.

What made this Passover different? The same chaotic scene played out every year upon Jesus’ arrival for Passover. The crowds. The clamor. The irreverence.

Every time he came to the temple, Jesus surely winced. Overwhelmed by the cacophony within the courtyard. Sickened by the difficulty of worshipping amid the clamor.

Yet, he never reacted outwardly to his inner revulsion…never yielded to the rising bile of anger in his throat.

The disturbance this time triggered a different response. This time he would enter Jerusalem’s temple for the last time…on his way to the cross. Jesus chose this time to make a bold statement about worship so seriously misunderstood and misrepresented by the myopic temple authorities.

In a graphic way Jesus reminded them that God’s house is a place of reverence.

In a graphic way Jesus confirmed that personal prayer lies at the heart of worship.

In a graphic way Jesus warned against attitudes and behaviors that impede the worship of another.

In a graphic way Jesus insisted that God’s house would be an inviting place of prayer…for all nations. For all people.

Imagine a church today with no distractions. No dissension. No disdain for the different.

A church with no elitism. No exclusivity.

A church with no arrogance. No attitude that shuns the seeker. No action that serves as a stumbling block to real worship.

Imagine a church with its doors and hearts wide open. Ready for worship.

A church for whom God’s house echoes with prayer and praise…for all people.

Just imagine.

Then…

Make it so.

“Enter his gates with Thanksgiving; His courts with praise, Give thanks to Him and Praise His name.” (Psalm 100:4)

Author’s Note: The article above is a chapter pulled from one of my books, The Chase: Our Passionate Pursuit of Life Worth Living. If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of the book, leave a message on the comment section below. 

Our Spiritual Vaccination

Background Passage: Mark 12:28-36, Proverbs 6:16-19, Romans 6:23, Philippians 4:8

One year ago this week, my wife and I traveled to Washington D.C., with our son’s family. We left amid a growing fear of global pandemic none of us really understood. By the time we finished our five days walking the nation’s capital, the World Health Organization label Covid-19 as a “global pandemic.” We arrived home to a vastly different world.

Over the last two weeks my wife and I have both received the first of our two Covid-19 vaccinations and are eagerly awaiting the second. By the end of the month we will be fully immunized against the coronavirus. I don’t know that we expected to feel such a sense of relief after receiving only one dose. I’m hoping the second shot gives us an even greater sense of peace.

I don’t pretend to know exactly how the vaccine works. I’m grateful for the scientists and doctors who do. I do know that the vaccine stimulates the production of white blood cells that attack the virus at the point of infection and block the virus from infecting other cells in my system.

The vaccine helps my body produce T-lymphocytes (memory cells) that hang around in my body in case the same virus tries to return. If that’s not exactly how it works, it is explanation enough for my limited understanding of biology and the human body. I just trust that it works.

I’m not naive. I know every pharmaceutical company rushes to produce a vaccine knowing it will make them a lot of money. Free enterprise. I want to believe though that the scientists and doctors who do the research and develop the countermeasures to defeat a new virus do so because they hate to see the suffering it causes.

Just as those doctors hate a virus that causes physical suffering and death, God hates the sin that causes spiritual suffering and death. Work with me while I try to build something here.

The late Rev. Billy Graham once wrote that God’s love for man prompts him to hate sin with a vengeance. He wrote, “I tell you that God hates sin just as a father hates a rattlesnake that threatens the safety and life of his child…God loathes with a holy abhorrence anything that would hinder our being reconciled to him, wrote Graham.”

So what specifically does God hate? The writer of Proverbs laid out a list of things God detests.

“These six things the Lord hates, yes, seven that are detestable to him: A haughty eye, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.” (Proverbs 6:16-19)

Consider all these things a spiritual virus that infects the human soul with devastating and eternal results. Then, consider how rampant are each of these sins in our culture and society today. Arrogance. Deceitfulness. Murder. Hatred. Wickedness. Evil. Discord. The Covid-7 of the spirit.

These viruses are at the heart of our cultural dissonance and discontent, making this world more sin sick with each passing day. How eye-opening and frightening would it be to see these sinful attitudes charted on the nightly news. Billions infected. Millions hospitalized. Far too many dying in the sin of their choosing.

It paints a pretty dismal picture.

The good news for the world is that God long ago developed a spiritual vaccine to ward off the spiritually deadly virus of sin. The surest vaccine against the ravages of sin is putting one’s faith and trust in Jesus Christ as Lord.

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ, our Lord.(Romans 6:23)

Here’s how that vaccine works. It changes and protects the heart. Like the T-lymphocytes, God’s spirit stays with us and in us convicting and convincing us of the sin we’re allowing to creep into our hearts.

Paul says the vaccine changes our attitudes and thoughts by attacking those sins that invade our hearts with their positive counterparts. He told the Philippian church:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8)

As much as he detests those notorious sins, don’t you know God loves these things all the more?

For this spiritual vaccine to work best we must take two shots that enable us to change our attitudes and our hearts. It’s a lesson Jesus taught an inquisitive Pharisee. You’ll find the story in Mark 12:28-34.

The teacher of the law came to Jesus, standing in the background as the Sadducees tried their best to trap Jesus with specious arguments and innuendo. Jesus saw right through them. Their questions were insincere, yet Jesus tried to enlighten them to the truth of his teaching. They just didn’t get it. The Pharisee, however, was beginning to see more clearly.

At a break in the conversation, the Pharisee in the background came forward, impressed with Jesus’ words. He had a question of his own. A good question. No intention to trap Jesus. Just a honest effort to pick his brain. To understand.

“Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

Jesus leaned back against the wall and looked intently into the man’s eyes, gaining a measure of his character and intent. Seeing the honesty in his heart, Jesus answered.

“The most important one is this. ‘Hear, O Israel. The Lord our God; The Lord is one. Love the Lord our God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’”

Bam! There it is! Shot 1 of our spiritual vaccination. To avoid those things that God hates, we must inoculate ourselves against them by focusing our love on the God who first loved us. Totally. Completely. With all that we are. In every aspect of life. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Heart. Soul. Mind. Strength.

For we cannot succumb to arrogance if we are loving God with our everything. We cannot easily condone wickedness nor practice it in our own lives, if God is Lord…the boss of our lives. We cannot manipulate the truth, pass along lies as truth; we cannot sow discord among God’s people, if we focus our heart, mind, strength and soul on the will of God in our lives.

Jesus knew that loving God was the first and most critical step. Yet, he knew it was just the beginning. To be fully vaccinated in spirit, however, we can’t stop there. Jesus didn’t. With barely a pause to see if his first statement hit home, Jesus spoke again to the Pharisee.

“The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no greater commandment than these.”

Shot 2. Just like the medical vaccine, this one has a few side effects. Some of us might feel a l little queasy afterward. It might initially make us uncomfortable.

When we open our hearts to Christ, we find it easy to love God with all we are until we understand that he requires us to love those who disagree with us. Those who look different than us. Those who don’t typically walk in our circle. Yet, his love in us gives us the capacity to open our eyes, to expand our circle to include everyone with whom we come in contact.

Jesus permanently linked together loving God and loving our neighbor, whomever that might be, as the greatest of all his teachings. He knew if we do those things well, sin, our spiritual coronavirus, will never gain a firm foothold on our lives.

That’s the good news of the Bible. As deeply as God hates the sin, he loves the sinner. He sent his son to die so that we might live. The ultimate spiritual vaccine, taken in two inseparable doses, exemplified in our love for God and our love for those around us.

I’m glad I’ve been vaccinated. How about you?

Worship and Adore Him

Background Passage: Matthew 2:1-12

The little fold-up Nativity that sat beneath our Christmas tree when I was a child is now displayed on a small table in the entry of our home. I’m not exactly sure how old it is, but it has been around for as long as I can remember.

Interestingly enough, the old family Nativity appears to show four magi, unless the bald one on the end is a out-of-place shepherd. It’s hard to tell.

That Nativity is one of more than two dozen Nativity sets my wife and I have collected over the years. Almost all of them display the typical scene. Joseph and Mary huddled over the baby in a hay-filled manger, surrounded by cattle and sheep. In a few, you’ll find shepherds off to one side and three wise men bearing their famous gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

It is usually these gifts that give the wise men their claim to fame.
In the case of the magi, maybe it isn’t so much about the gifts. Join me in Bethlehem so many years ago.

*****

The commotion outside brought Joseph to his feet. He and Mary exchanged uncertain looks. Pulling the curtain back, Joseph peaked outside as Mary scooped her toddler in her arms. The baby, unaware of their caution, laughed in delight.

Opening the door Joseph quietly told his wife to remain inside. In the fading light of day, Joseph nodded to his neighbors as they stood in their own doorways, awestruck by the sight of the well-dressed men stepping down from their camels.

The oldest of the men bowed his head and stretched out his arms in greeting. As quiet words were shared, the other men pulled several boxes from the satchels attached to the donkeys carrying their baggage.

“Come,” Joseph said, inviting the men inside his home. The men
stepped through the door of the humble stone house, dimly lit by small oil lanterns. A fire burned in its hearth. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room.

Joseph crossed the room to stand beside his wife who held a small child on her hip. The child’s large brown eyes darted from his mother to the men, more curious than frightened.

In the quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire, the men stared in amazement at the small boy without speaking. Finally, the elder of the men slowly dropped to one knee, bowing before the child and his family. One by one the others followed their leader until all were on bent knee.

As one they began to offer words of praise and worship to the one they had traveled so far to see…the king they read about in the Hebrew scripture. One by one they shared their offering as tribute…among their gifts were gold, frankincense and myrrh.

In the hours that followed, they told their remarkable story. How they had studied the ancient texts and followed a star, searching for the one who would be king of the Jews.

Mary and Joseph listened. Cherished their words. Affirmed for the visitors their own stories of God’s promises.

As the night grew longer, the men rose to leave, bowing again in worship and adoration before the child, certain in the knowledge that they had found the one for whom they had searched. They knew they found the Messiah.

*****

Almost every manger scene you and I have seen includes three wise men. We sing the popular Christmas carol about the three kings who came to see Jesus bearing expensive gifts. Three kings. Three gifts.

When we read this story in scripture or hear it told, we tend to focus on the gifts. The gold. The frankincense. The myrrh. Reading into each gift a symbol of some deeper meaning.

When we focus on the gifts, I think we miss something fundamental in the story. These magi, these wise men, did not travel the weeks across some 600 miles of awfully desolate land, searching for the king of the Jews, just to bring him gifts.

The desire to worship drove these men to find the Christ child.

What these learned men read in their texts, their interpretation of the star they followed, led them to believe that the child for whom they searched was the “king of the Jews.” Not a king, but the king.

“After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, ‘Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.’” (Matthew 1:1-2)

The phrasing of their question was such that it “disturbed” Herod. As the regional king appointed by the Roman Caesar, a new king would upset his apple cart. The long-promised messianic king who was to set his people free would really throw a wrench into his cushy life.

Herod, fearful of losing his power and position, called together his priests and scholars to ask them where scripture said the Messiah would be born. His reference to the Messiah would seem to indicate that the magi told him they were searching for God’s anointed one.

When their review of scripture pointed toward Bethlehem, he passed the word to the magi, instructing them to find this new king and report back to him so he could also “worship” the Messiah. Herod had no such intentions. He’s intent was to eliminate the competition.

After traveling hundreds of miles, the wise men of the East traveled the last five miles from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Once in the small village, it didn’t take them long to find the one for whom they had been searching so diligently.

The gifts they brought were secondary. They came to this obscure house in this out-of-the-way village to worship the Messiah.

As we think on this part of the Christmas story, perhaps there are a few things the wise men can teach us about our own worship.

The magi’s ardent desire compelled them to find the Messiah and to worship him. They faced a thousand obstacles and a thousand distractions. Little else mattered to them. Not the difficulty of the journey. Not the weeks of searching. Not Herod’s feelings. Not the humble house of a carpenter. Not the sight of a child without a crown.

None of that mattered once they dismounted their camels and walked through that door. Their hearts were ready for worship.

Our lives during the Christmas season are filled with distractions. The desire to find the perfect gift. The necessary shopping on top of the normal work routine. The parties. The travel.

In this most unusual year, we must add the bizarre political environment, the social disruptions and the pandemic to our list of things that divert our attention from that which God accomplished when he sent his son to be born in a manger.

Worship doesn’t happen without intent. We don’t walk into church, turn on a switch to eliminate the distractions and worship. Worship requires us to deliberately seek him. He is not hiding, making it more difficult for us to find him. We must sift through the distractions of our hearts, set them aside until the only thing in front of us is Jesus.

The magi prepared their hearts by reading God’s word. By listening to his spirit. When face to face with the savior of the world they could bow down before him, without distraction, in sincere worship and praise.

As we approach Christmas, let’s set aside the distractions. Let’s prepare our hearts to worship our king.

When Herod told them the Messiah would be found in Bethlehem, imagine their excitement. As a child, I remember the last five miles to my Grandma’s house through the winding streets of Fort Worth. When we passed the zoo, I was on the edge of my seat in anticipation of her hugs.

I’m guessing the magi felt the same on those final miles to Bethlehem. Image the excitement building over the course of the next couple of hours as they urged their camels onward. In a short time they would be in the presence of the one for whom they were searching. Matthew says as they followed the star it seemed to stop above a small house.

“After they heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” Matthew 2:9-10

Their joy didn’t come because they were saddle sore and could finally get off those camels after such a long trip. Their joy came from their growing excitement and anticipation to see the Messiah…for their chance to worship the one they had read and heard about.

I wonder how often we anticipate our chance to worship our Lord. How often do we enter the sanctuary overjoyed at the prospect of offering our praise to our savior? How different would our worship be if we approached the throne of God with the eager anticipation of the magi?

We sometimes overlook what was truly happening in the that little house in Bethlehem as these Gentile men from the East fell down to worship the King of the Jews. These were men who by their own faith and cultural traditions should have no interest in a Jewish messiah. Yet, here they were. Miles from home. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and a star. On bent knee before God in human form.

The enemy of worship works hard to plant seeds of doubt and despair in believers through discord, distraction and distress. The events of 2020 and the impact on churches everywhere can easily divert worship away from the king.

The wise men let nothing get in the way of their worship. Given all we’ve been through this year, what an example the magi have set for all of us.

Christmas will always be “the most wonderful time of the year” for me. Maybe you feel the same. However, if we are not careful, Christmas will be just gold, frankincense and myrrh. Presents given and received.

Let us approach this Christmas especially without the distractions that will tug on our hearts, in eager anticipation of our chance to worship, really worship, the one whom God sent to offer his grace and salvation to a world in need of his touch, his love.

Let us follow the example of the magi. Let us approach this season on bent knee, overjoyed at the chance to worship our king. Let us consider the true worth of the one whom we worship.

Chances are you have at least one manger scene in your home. Maybe, like us, you have dozens. Join me today. Take a moment. Look at the manger scene you have displayed. See the wise men. Be reminded of their deep desire to worship the king of kings.

Let’s pledge to make this Christmas about our personal worship of Jesus. It could well be the best thing to happen in 2020.

No Longer Bent

Background Passages: Luke 13:10-17 and I John 1:8-9

I like to think I’m related to him. After all, we all would like to be related to someone famous.

C.S. Lewis, one of the 20th century’s most dynamic apologists of the Christian faith, is best known in the modern world as the author of The Chronicles of Narnia, a story rich in Christian symbolism. I first encountered his writings when I read The Screwtape Letters and Mere Christianity in college. The former an intriguing look at how Satan manipulates us; the latter a deep presentation of the validity of Christianity and what the life of a Christian is like.

He penned a lesser known book called Out of the Silent Planet. Similar to Narnia, it is a science fiction book written in the 1930s in which his protagonist journeys to another world. Like Narnia, he weaves Christian symbolism through the pages of Silent Planet. I admit I’ve only read snippets of this book, but within its pages Lewis uses his space traveler to explain sin to a people who never heard the concept.

After searching for a definition that would make sense to these aliens, the hero settled on the words “bent” and “bound.” Lewis defined sin as “misshapen.” “Not the way we were made to be.” “Not fit for our intended purpose.”

It is as good a definition as any. When a nail is bent, it cannot be hammered unless it is straightened. When an arrow is bent, it cannot fly straight. When we are bent, we are not shaped in the way God intended us to be. Lewis speaks of the sinner as one bound. Tied up. Unable to shake free. Trapped.

To paraphrase Romans, “For all are bent, and fall short of God’s glory.”

I’m writing today, recognizing my “bentness.” Okay, I made up that word, but you get the point. Sin makes us uncomfortable. We don’t like to think about our failings. While we know we sin, we also know that we don’t sin constantly. That we do some things right. We want to focus on that to make ourselves feel a bit better.

Here’s the truth about sin, however. When we break our arm, the rest of our body still functions as designed. We are not capable of doing everything we want to do until the arm is healed. Sin works the same way. While we can still do some good things, as long as sin is in our lives, we aren’t everything God needs us to be. We are not fit for our intended purpose.

Thank God his forgiveness is not just a heavenly thing that comes at the end of our time. Forgiveness is a daily gift for those who seek it.

Luke may not have written this story with that in mind, but it made me think again that God doesn’t wish for us to live bent and bound by sin. Look at Luke 13.

Jesus sat among the people in a local synagogue on the Sabbath, likely at the invitation of the local church officials who were somewhat excited to have this popular rabbi passing through their village. Chances are Jesus had never taught in this synagogue. He probably didn’t know too many people in the crowd. Teaching in the synagogue was simply his practice during his earthly ministry. Something he wanted to do. Something he enjoyed.

In the middle of his dialogue with the people about some passage of scripture, a woman captured Jesus’ attention, stopping him in mid-sentence. In those seconds of silence, you can hear the rustle of robes as the crowd turns to follow Jesus’ gaze.

What Jesus saw broke his heart. He swallowed a wave of overwhelming, God-inspired empathy. A lump of emotion filled his throat and the tears well up in his eyes.

“…a woman was there, crippled by a spirit for 18 years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all.” (Luke 13:11)

When you picture this woman, you have to picture a posture more than stooped. The curvature of her spine forced her shoulders forward and downward. Bent at the waist, hobbling on unsteady legs and a knobby walking stick. Unable to lift her head above her horizon. The woman lived with a stark debilitation that left her crippled and unable to function.

As Jesus’ voice trailed off, he watched as the woman shuffled for her seat along the wall. She didn’t approach Jesus. Made no request of him. She didn’t proclaim her faith in him as a miracle worker. She just wanted to sit to take the burden off her feet and her back.

The rustle of robes returns as the crowd turns back to Jesus, as if to say, “It’s just Miriam. She’s been like that forever.” They know her. They have seen her around the village. Some of them probably even checked on her from time to time.

“Miriam,” my name for her, does today what she has probably done every Sabbath for the past 18 years. There is no indication in scripture that this was an unusual event. No indication that today the spirit moved her to get out of bed and make the difficult journey to the synagogue.

She came, as she always did, to be taught. To worship and learn. Today was no different. She probably didn’t even now there would be a guest teacher in the pulpit. This was just her place on the Sabbath. Jesus called her a “daughter of Abraham” in verse 16, possibly recognizing that this was her faithful pattern on the Sabbath, the place she needed and wanted to be on any Lord’s day.

In the midst of the ordinary, something extraordinary happened in this synagogue on this day.

Jesus swallowed the lump in his throat, choking back his emotion. He stood and called to her before she sat down, asking her to come forward. With difficulty she tilted her head to see who called out to her. As she looked sidelong at Jesus, she sidled slowly, and probably a bit suspiciously, his direction until she stood, hunched over in front of him.

Jesus dropped to a knee with his hand lightly on her shoulder, the tilt of his head matching hers until he looks her in the eyes.

His word is simple. His intent clear.

“Woman, you are set free from you infirmity. He put his hands upon her; and immediately she straightened up and praised God.”

The woman came to God’s house bent and broken, bound by her affliction. Jesus set her free. The root word in Greek for “set free” is to “loosen” or “untie.” She was no longer bent by or bound to her ailment. She had been released from almost two decades of physical torment.

Jesus set her free, released her from her bonds, not because she begged him to, but because he wanted to. He set her free because he wanted her to be free. To be what God intended her to be. It was, after all, the reason he came.

I find that an excellent illustration of our sin and God’s forgiveness. C. S. Lewis says sin misshapes us. Leaves us bent and broken. Paul talks about being bound in sin. Tied up and shackled by it. A slave to it.

I think when Jesus sees us bound in our sin, he still gets that same lump in his throat. That same overwhelming sense of empathy that he learned while hanging on a cross. It is what compelled him to die for us…an empathic love that says, “I can’t stand to see you this way.”

It is what keeps him reminding us, through his spirit, that God stands ready to forgive our sins.

God does not wait for us to come to grips with our bent and misshapen selves. Through Jesus Christ, he called us to himself, looked us in the eye, and took the full burden of our “bentness” all the way to Calvary. In doing so, he said to us, “Straighten up. You are set free.”

Once set free, we can respond as this woman did and praise God who loves us.

But, there is another character in this story. The administrator of the synagogue, the one responsible for proper protocol, objected indignantly to the healing. He quieted the crowd with a stern, “holier-than-thou” stare and a thunderous exclamation.

Rather than challenge this upstart rabbi directly, he turned his back to Jesus and admonished the astonished crowd for getting excited about a breach in protocol, putting Jesus in his place and indirectly chastising the woman whom Jesus healed.

In the arrogant tone of the righteously misguided, he said, “There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”

Protocol over people. Ritual over right.

Jesus would have none of it.

“You hypocrites! Doesn’t each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water?” (Luke 13:15)

There’s that word again. The word Jesus used when he told the woman she had been “set free” from her disability, is the same word translated “untie” in this passage. He’s saying, “You willing set your donkey free on the Sabbath to give him a drink. Yet, you balk at setting this woman free from an 18-year trauma.”

Jesus said it better than I did. He said,

“Then should not this woman, this daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for 18 long years, be set free (untied, released) on the Sabbath day from what bound her?” (Luke 13:16)

Here’s the kicker in this part of the story. We see clearly that the woman was set free, but what of the church official. His strict adherence to a distorted interpretation of scripture and church tradition, left him criticizing when he ought to be celebrating. His objection revealed just how bent out of shape he was. Revealed the sin in his life.

You have to wonder about the administrator. I wonder how many times this poor woman sought his prayers for healing over 18 years. I wonder if seeing her every Sabbath and now seeing her healed shamed him for his failure to invoke God’s healing.

This poor church official fell victim to a distorted spiritual view that at times inflicts all of us. C. S. Lewis said, “Those of us who do not think about our own sins make up for it by thinking incessantly about the sins of others.” It was and is a myopic view.

This church official, like me at times, got so busy “doing church” that he “did no good.” He could not recognize that his reliance on ritual blinded him to his own “bentness.” Bound to sin he didn’t know he had. Thinking that his body was functioning at 100 percent efficiency without acknowledging that his arm was broken.

When faced with our own sin, we have two choices.

We can fail to recognize that we are as bent spiritually as this woman was physically. Without recognizing our hypocrisy and seeking God’s forgiveness, we remain tied and bound to the sin.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us…” (I John 1:8)

Or…

We can recognize our misshapen selves. That we are living in a way that is not what God intended. A burdened, but repentant heart that stands hunched over before God seeking his forgiveness and willing to accept the grace gift of his forgiveness.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (I John 1:9)

The attitude of the contrite gives God the chance to put his hand lightly on our shoulder and tell us to straighten up. It is a moment for praising God and celebrating our new freedom in him.

When we have been untied from the sin in our lives, Jesus gives us the opportunity to be “surprised by joy,” to use again the words of C. S. Lewis. The woman in our story praised the one who set her free.

I’m grateful for my God who is relentless in his desire to forgive.