Category: Personal Relationship

Ambassadors of Reconciliation

Background Passage: 2 Corinthians 5:14-21; Matthew 29: 19-20; Matthew 5:9

One can imagine the sense of trepidation felt by John Adams as he stood outside the chambers of England’s King George III in 1785 shortly after being appointed by President George Washington as the first United States Ambassador to Great Britain. Washington desired to restore the damaged relationship between the two countries and establish commercial ties by persuading Britain to open its ports to American goods.

In his writings prior to the Declaration of Independence, Adams said that George III had “plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns and destroyed the lives of our people.”

Because of his past words and his personal involvement in the fight for independence, Adams was uncertain as to how he would be received by the king, Adams wrote to Secretary of State John Jay, “It is not to be expected that I should be cherished or beloved.”

Despite his misgivings, Adams accepted the appointment and traveled to England.

As he presented his credentials to the king, Adam’s offered a prepared introduction, expressing the hope that he could be an instrument in “restoring an entire esteem, confidence and affection—or, in better words, the old good nature and the old good humor between people, who, though separated by an ocean, and under different governments, have the same language, a similar religion and a kindred blood.”

The ensuing conversation leads to the first steps toward reconciliation between the United States and Great Britain. As the direct representative of the one who sent him, reconciliation of differences is often the first order of business of any ambassador from one country to another.

In our focal passage in 2 Corinthians, Paul said that as Christians “we are Christ’s ambassadors.” As a result of his experience on the road to Damascus, Paul felt commissioned by Christ to reconcile the differences between Christ and the world, especially the Gentile world, as his direct representative.

At the beginning of every ambassador’s tenure of service in a new country, the ambassador must meet with the country’s leader and present his or her credentials, his authority to speak on the leader’s behalf, just as Adams did with King George III.

Every Christian, according to Paul, carries the title of Christ’s ambassador. What are our credentials? What is our authority to speak on behalf of Christ?

Take a look at our scripture passage.

For Christ’s love compels us for we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore, all died. And he died for all, that those who live shall no longer live for themselves for him who died for them and was raised again.

So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, a new creation has come. The old is gone, the new is here.

All this is from God who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry to reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God was making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. For God made him who had no sin to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:14-21)

It is, Paul says, the love of Christ that compels us or urges us to persuade others that Christ died for the sins of the world. He died for all. That his sacrificial death leads us to live for him rather than ourselves…to offer others the opportunity to also live for Christ “who died for them and was raised again.”

We are able to do that, according to Paul, because we no longer see others through our eyes. As we live in Christ, we are transformed into something new, one with eyes that view the world through the eyes of Christ.

Paul’s Damascus experience shaped him into a new creation. His physical blindness an apt metaphor for his spiritual blindness. He could no longer see Jesus as he did before. Now, when he opened his eyes, he saw the price Christ paid for Paul’s life and gave him a new life reconciled with God through his relationship with Jesus Christ.

To find our credentials as an ambassador of Christ, we need look no further than his great love that led him to the cross and the change he has made in our lives as the old gives way to this new creation within us. This is our authority from God to speak words of reconciliation to a lost world.

It does us little good if we never extend those credentials to those to whom God has sent us. If Adams had stayed in France rather than taking a boat to England when commissioned as an ambassador, his ability to restore the relationship between the United States and Britain would have been compromised. So it is with our call to be Christ’s ambassador. If we fail to take our commission into the world, we limit our effectiveness as Christ’s representative.

If that makes sense, then what is our mission? Jesus gave us our marching orders in Matthew 28:19-20.

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely, I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

Jesus called us to make disciples and teach them a life of obedience to the commands of Christ. Paul took the Great Commission and further defined it as the ministry of reconciliation.

Washington sent Adams to restore the relationship between the U.S. and Britain. To re-establish the trade and commerce between the nations. That was his message of reconciliation.

Christ sends us into the world, according to Paul, with a message of unparalleled importance. That God reconciled the world through Christ’s death for the purpose of not holding the world’s sins against them. Christ took my sin and yours upon himself. Offered his life as atonement or payment for our sin. That, Paul says, is the message of reconciliation. That’s the word we are to share as his ambassadors.

I love the conviction and emotion that I can hear in what Paul wrote. Look at verse 20-21 and hear the sense of urgency and longing in Paul’s voice.

We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled with God…become the righteousness of God.

Think with me about this idea of reconciliation. It is not a complicated message. It is grounded in the very real death and resurrection of Christ. It is about Jesus. We can share our testimony. We can talk about sin and forgiveness and throw in a smattering of heaven and hell. Until we talk about Jesus and what he did for you and me, we’re missing the core of the gospel story.

In this passage, Paul talked about how his opinion of Jesus changed. Paul once opposed Christ, seeking to imprison or kill his followers. When Paul encountered the risen Christ, all that changed. When he understood the purpose and meaning of the death and resurrection of Jesus, it changed the way he saw Jesus and it changed the way he saw everything and everyone else. The message of reconciliation is about Jesus and his love for us…his desire for us to be made new and made right with God.

It’s the difference in a caterpillar and a butterfly. The metamorphosis within the chrysalis turns the thing that was once grounded into a new creature that can now fly. God took the initiative through Christ to give us that path back to him. To provide a way to restore the broken relationship. To take what was wrong in our relationship to God and make it whole and right again. To make the old us into a new us.

That’s why Paul’s words sound so desperate when he urges us to be reconciled with God. He knows what is at stake for the lost soul.

That takes care of the relationship between us and God, but the ministry of reconciliation has one more facet to consider. I thought about this last week as I taught a lesson on the Beatitudes.

The Beatitudes unveil the character demanded of those who desire to be a part of the kingdom of God. It speaks of the poor in spirit, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. And, it speaks of the peacemakers.

Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the sons of God. (Matthew 5:9)

The kingdom of God is a kingdom of peace and yet we are too often at war with one another. Unreconciled with each other. The broken relationships, the societal divisions, the political acrimony, the racial bigotry drive a wedge between God’s people and the rest of the world, It can also drive a wedge between God’s people when we aren’t right with him.

Blessedness or Contentment comes to those who find ways of bringing people together in the love of Christ, reconciling others to God and to one another. These are the peacemakers. The reconcilers. This statement promises the peacemakers will be called “Sons of God.”

I hope that makes sense to you because I like that connection. We are called into this ministry of reconciliation as his ambassadors, his peacemakers, to bring people into right relationship with God through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We can’t do that That ministry is made more difficult if we’re not right with one another. Blessed are those who are peacemakers and work to bring people together as one in the body of Christ.

Washington entrusted Adams with a mission of great importance to the future of our country. God entrusts an even greater mission to his ambassadors.

This is a world that needs to be reconciled to God through Christ. A world that needs to hear our message of reconciliation: That Jesus died on the cross and was raised to new life for the sins of every man, woman and child. They must hear about Jesus. That all one has to do to be reconciled to God is to seek his forgiveness, turn away from the sin in his life and accept Jesus as Lord and savior.

For those who have not placed faith and trust in Christ, hear the urgency in Paul’s voice: Be reconciled to God.

For those of us who have made that personal decision, maybe it’s time we accept his commission as an ambassador to the world by embracing this ministry and message of reconciliation.

It’s my prayer that we might become ambassadors of reconciliation.

A Hidden Treasure

Background Passages: I Chronicles 4:9-10; Jeremiah 33:3

The Antiques Road Show on PBS has become our default television program when there is absolutely nothing else to watch. If you’re not familiar with the show, hopeful people bring an item to an appraiser in hopes that what looks like a throw-away might actually be treasure.

I find most intriguing the items bought in a garage sale or sitting in the family attic for years. Some pieces are trash. Some pieces prove to be worth far more than expected.

On one recent program, a Corpus Christi family brought in a painting that hung behind a utility room door at his parents’ home for decades. Purchased in Mexico around 1930, the artist was a teenaged Diego Rivera, who would become one of the most influential Latin American painters of the 20th century.

Purchased for pesos, the painting was appraised at the Antique Road Show for $1 million.

It may be a lesson for everyone who bought one of my recent watercolors for a paltry amount. Hang it behind a door in your utility room, but don’t let your grandkids throw it away. It might be worth something 75 years after I’m gone. Another garage sale throw-away that turns out to be a hidden treasure.

I suppose that’s why I’m also drawn to the parenthetical tidbits I discover in scripture…those short, almost throw away passages hidden within the context of a broader story. I often find that the small tidbit becomes spiritual treasure.

I discovered another of those gems this week as I glanced through the early chapters of I Chronicles. Buried in the middle of a list of begats and begots that begin with Adam and end with David, you’ll find a parenthetical statement about a man named Jabez…a prayer of a righteous man hidden among the branches of an extended family tree between the sons of Helah and the sons of Kelub.

Jabez was more honorable than his brothers. His mother had named him Jabez, saying, “I gave birth to him in pain.” Jabez cried out to the God of Israel, “Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my territory. Let your hand be with me and keep me from harm so that I will be free from pain.” And God granted his request. (I Chronicles 4:9-10)

While this scriptural insert tells us a little about Jabez, it tells us more about God. It tells us of the connection between the man and the God who blessed him. I find it instructive in my life.
Within these two verses, one can find three characteristics of the kind of life that a gracious God chooses to bless.

First, we see that God blesses those who walk the path of righteousness.

Jabez was more honorable than his brothers.

Little else is known of Jabez or his family, but clearly his brothers missed the mark set by those recording the genealogy. Their lives served as a footnote to the spiritual maturity of their brother. The honor attributed to Jabez seems spiritual in nature…not so much in the physical, financial, social or political realms.

Jabez was a godly man whose moral character, convictions and conduct stood out from those around him. Jabez was honorable, living his life in right relationship with God.

Honorable doesn’t mean perfect. However, if God had a spiritual destination in mind for Jabez…an idea of who he was now, growing into the man God wanted him to be…Jabez was headed in the right direction. He walked a path marked by righteousness.

David could have been talking about Jabez when he opened his Book of Psalms.

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. (Psalm 1:1-3)

Jabez chose to ignore the advice of men who lived only for themselves. He chose to avoid the life of intentional sin. He refused to mock God or those around him. Rather, he found joy thinking about and living according to the law of God. As a result, his impact on others yielded fruit of the spirit, finding success in the work God called him to do. Jabez was honorable.

The passage shows us that God blesses those who remain faithful through the pain life brings.

Did you catch the meaning of his name? In the Hebrew culture of the day, a male child received his name when he was circumcised eight days after he was born. It must have been an extraordinarily painful childbirth for his loving mother to give him a name that means “pain,” “grief,” of “suffering.”

The name evidently proved a predictor of the hardships experienced in his life. That his brothers were less honorable might tell us that Jabez suffered hardship at the hands of his family. Maybe he had to assume debt his brothers incurred. Maybe their dishonesty brought shame on the family name. Perhaps Jabez endured health issues that impacted his ability to live as he desired. I’m guessing he struggled and suffered in much the same way we do.

Whatever the cause of his suffering throughout his life, we see in vs. 10 Jabez prays that God would protect him from harm so he would finally be “free of pain.” He longs for a time when pain and hardship are behind him.

God has a way of blessing a life scarred with pain. The Rev. H. B. Charles, Jr., wrote that “Candles must be burned in order to give light. Wheat must be ground to make bread,” he added. “We must experience some pain to experience true blessedness.”

Turning to the Psalmist again we find these words.

It is good for me I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. (Psalm 119:71)

Charles wrote, “Pain is not the blessing, but it sets us up for blessing.” Puts us in position to be blessed. Opens our hearts to the lessons God can teach us through our experiences.

The final trait in the life of Jabez shows that God chooses also to bless the life of the one who talks to God regularly about the concerns of their hearts.

Jabez was a godly man with more than his share of pain throughout his life. In the middle of all of that, he prayed for God’s blessing. He talked to the source of all blessing.

Can’t you relate to Jabez? Scripture does not praise him for the things the world values. Things like wisdom, strength or wealth. Jabez is not celebrated for being gifted or accomplished. We’re not even told what made him honorable or the depth of pain he experienced. Scripture singles him out simply as a man who prayed for that which God laid on his heart.

You see, Jabez learned what we all need to learn. God answers prayer. Prayer is our connection to God who wants nothing more than to bless his people.

The famed pastor Charles Spurgeon said, “Prayer is the slender nerve that moves the hand of omnipotence.” We receive our greatest blessings after we pray within his will. For his blessing in my life, not my blessing.

This obscure snippet about Jabez teaches us a little about the life God chooses to bless. It also tells us that God’s blessings come in the form of his provision, his presence and his protection.

Look at what Jabez asked of God.

Oh, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory. Let your hand be with me and keep me from harm so I will be free of pain.

Jabez asked that God’s favor would fall on him (bless me) and his situation (enlarge my borders). God knows what we’re going through. God cares about our struggles, needs, dreams and fears. Just as Jabez prayed believing that God was ready, willing and able to answer his heart’s cry, we, too, need to pray for God’s provision with expectation of his blessing.

I initially read the passage and thought Jabez was praying for greater territory and wealth. One commentary suggested his honor would have precluded that. The writer suggested that the enlarged border would strengthen the influence of Jabez to share of his relationship to God.

That makes some sense to me. As God continues to bless us, we ought to be using all he provides to extend our influence with others as a way of testifying to the world of God’s love for them through Jesus Christ. To ask him to give us a platform to share the grace of a loving God.

Jabez asked also for the blessing of God’s presence.

Let your hand be with me…

It is a sentence that speaks to the powerful presence of God in his life. As such it complements the previous request for his expanded influence. Jabez wisely knew that God’s provision and his presence presents a problem. Incapable of managing God’s provision on our own, we need his presence and power.

It’s the Psalmist again who reinforces this truth.

Let your hand be ready to help me, for I have chosen your precepts. (Psalm 119:173)

Finally, God’s blessing is found in his protection.

…keep me from harm so I will be free of pain.

One commentary suggest that a more apt translation of the Hebrew is to “Keep me from doing wrong so I might not cause suffering in my life and the life of others.” In other words, protect me, God, from me. My own bad choices. My own hardheadedness. My own ego. Keep me from hurting myself and those you love.

What a blessing of protection that would be?

Every little segment of Antiques Road Show ends with the appraiser sharing with the owner what his “find” is worth. More often than not, during the show, the owner is overwhelmed by the moment when the throw-away item becomes treasure.

We may attempt to live an honorable life. Not perfect, but over the course of life walking in the general direction God desires for us. We may remain faithful through the inevitable suffering. We may even engage in the kind of deep conversations with God concerning the desires of our heart. Those things open the doors to God’s blessings.

The real treasure I needed to discover this week is found in vs. 10. Look at it.

And God granted his request.

You see, the point is not so much that Jabez was honorable, that he experienced the same kind of pain we experience or even that he prayed. The real treasure is that God answered his prayer…just as he will answer ours.

I’m grateful for a man pulled from the pages of obscurity to remind me that God is a God who looks for every chance he can to bless me with is provision, presence and protection.

I find rest in that thought and the words of God to the prophet Jeremiah.

Call to me and I will answer you and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known. (Jeremiah 33:3)

Way to go, Jabez!

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Raise the Bar

Background Passages: 2 Peter 1:5-9; Galatians 5:16 and Philippians 3:10-14
The streak of laziness that runs through my bones was never more evident than my high school track career. I tried out for every field event in an effort to escape any serious running events. While I had a small measure of success in the shot put, my efforts at the broad jump, high jump and pole vault might be classified as dismal.
I found the sand pit too far from the foul line and the pole vault abjectly frightening. I really wanted to do the high jump, but my technique and general lack of skill ended that dream.
A few years after my high school efforts, my cousin Paul advanced to the Texas state championship in the high jump and eventually took his skill to college where he set a personal best of 6’10”. He fell just short of the world record…had he been jumping in 1937. (I hope God will forgive me for that family dig even if Paul doesn’t.)
I don’t know for sure how high the bar was when the competition started back when Paul was back in college. I’d be stunned if they started the event at 6’10”. Paul most certainly worked up to his personal best in incremental steps. Each jump built upon the success of the preceding jump. Chances are my cousin never would have cleared his personal best without raising the bar along the way.
I found myself wondering this week if that’s what Peter had in mind as he began his second letter to the early Christian churches. To grow in our spiritual maturity, Peter said we need to be willing to raise the bar along the way.
Peter tells those early Christians and those who follow them, that God has given us everything we need to live a godly life. We just have to keep raising the bar of excellence and spiritual maturity. Read his words.
For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control, and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and brotherly kindness, love. 
For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But, if anyone does not have them, he is nearsighted and blind, and has forgotten that he has been cleansed from past sins.” (2 Peter 1:5-9)
Because God has given us everything we need to live a godly life, we must keep pushing ourselves toward a deeper faith…a deeper and wiser spiritual maturity. We’ll never make that move if we keep the bar low.
Peter says we make an initial leap of faith in our trust of Jesus Christ as savior. We learn in Hebrews 11:6 that “without faith it is impossible to please God. “
Far too many seem to think that’s all that is required…and it is to a point…a true expression of faith in Jesus as savior puts you on the list of God’s redeemed.
That’s a little like clearing the bar at its opening height. Elite high jumpers have little difficulty clearing that first jump. Had any of them been content with that first jump, they might not have tried higher heights.
Placing our faith and trust in Jesus as savior is a great first jump. Staying at that height does not grow our faith. It does not allow us to stretch our understanding of who God is and what he asks of us.
Read through that list of character traits Peter shares. Nothing within them suggests a random order. Each trait builds upon the preceding trait. He says make sure you add to your faith a life of goodness. Making right choices. Virtuous. Pure. Live a life that reflects Christ in you. Letting God’s way be your standard. That seems a natural evolution of our faith commitment. Declare your faith then live a life of virtue and purity.
As you begin to live a life that reflects Christ, you gain knowledge into his teachings, discerning what is right and what he requires of those who follow him. You gain an understanding of the nature of God and thus the nature he desires for us.
Paul’s words to the Philippians would reinforce this thought.
“Finally, brethren, 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 time passes and we invest ourselves in God’s word, we gain an understanding and knowledge of how he lived and the words he spoke. Such understanding enables us to deepen our faith and expand and enhance the good we are doing.
Then, we raise the bar higher. Finding the self-control or discipline to resist our former way of life and the temptations that will surely come. It is getting a grip on our passions in order to stay focused and committed to what we’ve been taught in God’s word. This, then, leads to a stronger faith, a goodness that seldom wavers because we continue to grow in our knowledge of his will and way.
Perseverance speaks to the ability to stay the course when days get more difficult. To persist in our pursuit of godly character even when it is hard to do so. It is the patience to keep exercising our faith, goodness, knowledge gained and discipline to remain strong during hard times. The ability to fight off the temptation to abandon what we believe and know when circumstances don’t go our way.
“Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross… (Hebrews 12:2-3)
Raise the bar yet again because as we stay strong in the face of hardship, we are demonstrating a deep respect for God and his love for us. The call to live a life of godliness suggests a faith that is practiced and practical. It is simply the faith we put into practice. We determine to be more and more like him in pursuit of the godliness…being Christ-like…in the way we live and relate to those around us, especially those who are outcasts.
James put it this way in his brief letter.
Religion that God our father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. (James 1:27)
It is this raised bar of Christian living that demands we love those who persecute us. Insists that we love the sinner but reject the sin. Encourages us to wrap our arms around those society pushes aside.
Jesus raised the bar for his disciples when he told them that the evidence of their godliness is in the gentleness, kindness and grace extended toward our fellow believers. In their love for one another.
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  (John 13:35)
It is a picture of grace and forgiveness within the body of Christ that builds up the church rather than tearing it down. Our brotherly kindness and love is the light of Christ reflected through the church that invites the unbeliever to consider a life with Christ. It is this light that opens the door of salvation to a lost world.
It is the love that allowed Peter and Paul to embrace the faith of the Gentile believers. It is the love that forgives the hurt caused by our fellow believer so that church continues to model God’s love for the world. It is the love that makes a church a church.
“And, now, these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (I Corinthians 13:13)
Peter raises the bar one last time in this passage. Read the words again.
…add to your faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control, and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and brotherly kindness, love.
Peter goes beyond brotherly love when he suggests that we will reach new heights when we learn to love each other as God loved. This is agape love. It is a love abounding from our hearts by the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. It is the spark that compels us to go out of our way to share our faith, to love those who others deem unlovable. To reach into the community to meet needs expecting nothing in return.
May the Lord cause you to increase and abound in love for one another and for all men, just as we also do for you. (I Thessalonians 3:12)
The list Peter shares may seem daunting. Who could live a life like this other than Jesus Christ? Each characteristic he asks us to pursue reflect the character of God himself. Take a look at verse 4 immediately preceding our primary passage in 2 Peter 1. Peter declares that God gave us his gift of salvation and his promises so that we might “participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world…”
These traits of our heavenly father are the traits he wants to see evident in the lives of those who believe in him. The list Peter shares is not a “how to,” but rather a statement about what is possible. That a focused and committed life can keep raising the bar of excellence as we become more Christ-like. It is a process and is something to which we can strive. Peter is giving us a picture of what we can become if we make spiritual maturity a priority.
I’ve lived almost seven decades on this earth. I wish I could declare that I’ve cleared the bar set by God. I’m certain I have not. It is a growth process, even until the day we die.
Christian growth and maturity is neither automatic nor a matter of time. Growth occurs as we consistently and obediently seek to grow…as we hurdle each bar…with the power and help of God’s spirit and the faithful study of God’s word.
Peter offered us both an encouraging word and a warning in 2 Peter 1:8-9.
For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. But, if anyone does not have them, he is nearsighted and blind, and has forgotten that he has been cleansed from past sins.”
We said earlier the reason we seek after these traits is to understand the character of God and participate in that divine nature. Then, we must consistently demonstrate these traits in our lives in increasing measure each day we live. To be effective and productive in our knowledge of Jesus.
To simply let that initial faith commitment slide suggests we’ve forgotten what Jesus did for us on the cross.
I’ll make one last connection. Peter’s choice of character traits in his second letter to believers is similar to the fruit of the Spirit Paul discusses in some of his letters. Paul lists the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5 as the qualities God produces in us through the work of the Spirit.
The key to manifesting the fruit of the Spirit, according to Galatians 5:16, is to walk in the Spirit. A spiritual lifestyle choice. This passage in Peter tells us how to walk in the Spirit, constantly jumping the higher bar of spiritual maturity.
I want to know Christ and the power of the resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings…Not that I have attained all of this or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me…but one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining forward to what is ahead. I press on… (Philippians 3:10, 12-14)
I hope you will join me in making that thought a commitment in the days to come. Maybe we can clear the next bar together.

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.

Who Are You Looking For?

Background Passages: Matthew 16:13-23; John 18:3-8, John 20:11-16

It is an essential question for Resurrection Sunday. One that demands an answer.

Jesus had been crucified and buried. The heavy slab of granite rolled into the dugout trench, locked his body inside. From Friday until early Sunday morning, those who followed Jesus lived in a state of shock, numb with fear.

Not knowing anything else to do, the women who were closest to him, returned to his tomb to finish preparing the body for burial. Something Sabbath laws had not allowed them to do when he died. When they arrived, they found the stone rolled away, the burial cloth neatly folded and the body of their teacher nowhere to be seen. In a panic, they ran back to tell Jesus’ disciples.

As the sun burned away the morning dew, Mary Magdalene, compelled by grief and overcome with sadness, returned to the empty tomb. She failed to recognize the supernatural aura of the day. Two angels sat inside the tomb their identity lost in her confusion. Still clutching the burial ointments she had brought with her that morning, they asked her…

“Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Mary heard the rustle of robes behind her. Jesus stood before her, but again in her misery, she failed to recognize the one she loved. Echoing the angels, Jesus asked…

“Woman, why are your crying?”

Then, he got to the heart of the matter.

“Who is it you are looking for?” (John 20:11-15)

There it is. Jesus cuts the soul of everyone who would believe in him as savior and Lord. The fundamental question of Easter. “Who is it you are looking for?”

Easter is the most revered of all Christian Holidays. According to the Pew Research Center, 45 percent of Christians worldwide say they attend worship services on a monthly basis. That number typically increases to about 70 percent on Resurrection Sunday. So, if your church averages about 500 people in attendance every Sunday, you might expect 675-700 people in attendance for Easter services.

Whether you attend church every Sunday or whether your church experience is limited to Christmas and Easter, this is the critical question of we need to ask ourselves. When you walk through the doors of the church, for whom are you searching? Who do you seek?

Just for a moment cast yourself in this story as the thirteenth disciple. Where they go, you go. What they see and hear, you see and hear. What they feel, you feel.

I’m not sure if Peter and the other disciples could have answered that critical question with 100 percent certainty on that first Easter morning so long ago. They had just seen their teacher, their Lord crucified. Their worlds turned inside out and upside down. Little made sense that day. Things had certainly not turned out the way they expected.

It was just a few weeks earlier that Jesus walked his disciples north out of Galilee and into heartbeat of Roman worship. Caesarea Philippi, a Roman city north of the Sea of Galilee, served as the home of a temple to the Roman god Pan.

Needing to get away from the crowds to teach his disciples what would be an unsettling truth, Jesus ventured into a place most Jews would never go.

Can you see them? Jesus and his disciples sat on the side of a hill overlooking Caesarea Philippi, cooking a few fish over the glowing embers of their campfire. Looming below them were pagan temples carved out of the solid sandstone cliff. Torches cast tall, eerie shadows upon the cliffside as the pagan priests scurried to deliver their burnt offerings to the gods.

The muted but friendly conversation of companions fell silent when Jesus, staring down at the temples, asked a simple question.

“Who do men say that the Son of Man is?”

“They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”

They waited for Jesus to react, the moment growing more uncomfortable for them as Jesus stared into the distance. Then, Jesus turned to face his dearest friends and in a quiet voice and with eyes that bore into their souls, he asked,

“But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

(Do you recognize it? It’s that Easter question in another form. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

The Jewish crowds considered Jesus a new prophet, perhaps John the Baptist, Elijah or Jeremiah returning to set their people free. Jesus needed to know that his disciples understood the truth. “Who am I to you? Who are you looking for?”

With all the pride he could muster, Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”

Jesus offered a word of measured praise and a prophecy.

“Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by flesh and blood, but by my Father in heaven. And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.“ (Matthew 16:13-18)

To his credit Peter knew who Jesus was. He was the Messiah. God’s anointed one. God’s son. To his shame, he still didn’t fully understand.

Scripture tells us in the next passage that Jesus, in the quietness of that evening, began to tell the disciples that he would travel to Jerusalem and suffer a great deal at the hands of the religious elite. He told them he would be killed and raised again on the third day.

Slightly horrified, Peter, the one who just declared Jesus the Messiah, tugged on his master’s sleeve, pulled him to the side to rebuke him. This was not a casual “tsk-tsk.” This was a strongly worded criticism, expressing Peter’s sharp disapproval of the content of Jesus’ lesson.

“Never, Lord! This shall never happen!”

Jesus narrowed his gaze into Peter’s eyes raised his voice so all the disciples could hear, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.” (Matthew 16:22-23)

The Jews desperately pined for the Messiah to come as a conquering king to drive the occupying Romans from their lands. Peter and the others had a hard time getting past the old narrative. He recognized that Jesus was the Son of God, the Messiah, but fail to understand the nature of God’s redeeming work. He viewed Jesus in political and personal terms. He got the identity right, but not the intent.

Who are you looking for? Jesus asked. Peter was looking for someone different. The wrong kind of Messiah. Looking for the wrong kind of savior.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Travel now to the Garden of Gethsemane. The hour is late. The disciples are bone tired and weary. Not just from the tiring journey from Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem, but from the troubling events of the night. The supper shared in the upper room went from celebratory to somber. Jesus’ actions unsettled everyone. Washing the feet. Calling out a betrayer. Launching into a heavy conversation about death at the hands of the civil and religious authorities.

Amid the olive trees, the disciples struggled to stay awake. Jesus knelt farther up the hillside, in fervent prayer. The disciples faded in and out of a sleep induced haze, until they heard the stomp of marching feet. The clatter of sword against shield cutting through the midnight hour. Wide awake now, the disciples form a protective ring around Jesus as a band of soldiers being led by no other but Judas surrounds them, swords drawn.

Jesus gently pushes his way to the front and stands face to face with Judas and the Roman centurion.

“Who is it you want?”

(There it is again. The same probing question. “Who is it you are looking for?”)

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they said.

Jesus answered, “I told you that I am he. If you are looking for me, then let these men go…Then, the detachment of soldiers with its commander and the Jewish officials arrested Jesus. They bound him and brought him first to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jewish leaders that it would be good if one man died for the people. (John 18:3-8)

Other passages of scripture tell us that Judas greeted his master with a kiss. Judas joined the disciples, attracted by the message of inclusion and freedom. He heard the words, but never quite got the message. Growing increasingly disillusioned by Jesus’ passive approach, he felt compelled to act. Still believing that Jesus was the man who would start the revolution, Judas tried to force his hand.

The kiss. Perhaps a wink and a slight nod of his head. A lift of the eyebrows. Judas had just created the opportunity to light the fire of rebellion if only Jesus would comply with his wishes.

“Who is it you want?” Judas recognize Jesus’ power. He had seen it in action. He knew Jesus, but he didn’t know his heart. Judas wanted a savior he could manipulate to do his bidding. He wanted to unleash that miraculous power to meet his own desires. Judas didn’t want a savior. He wanted someone he could control.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Now, let’s go back to the tomb. Hours later in the timeline of Jesus’ life on earth. In the garden outside the tomb, a distraught Mary mistook Jesus for the gardener. Unable to recognize the one she loved so dearly, she heard him ask,

“Who are you looking for?”

In the brief conversation that ensued, Mary’s grieving heart took her the only place her distress could go. With a heart burdened and disoriented, she cried out to him,

“Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him.”

At some point in this conversation, Jesus sought to reassure her. He called her name,

“Mary.”

Something in the sound of his voice broke through the despair and the heartbreak. In that moment of clarity, Mary found the one for whom she was looking.

She fell at his feet and cried.

“Rabboni.”

This Hebrew form of the word is personal, informal and intimate.

“My Teacher.” (John 20:15-16)

Mary understands who he is and acknowledges him as her risen Lord.

You see, when Mary Magdalene ran to tell the disciples that the tomb was empty, she had all the facts right, but she jumped to the wrong conclusion. Peter had done the same in Caesarea Philippi. Judas the same at Gethsemane. Her facts were right. The tomb was empty. She just drew to the wrong conclusion.

We often do the same thing. When faced with troubles and unexplainable tragedy, we mourn. If we understood who we were looking for, we wouldn’t weep at all. Consider this. If Mary had gotten her wish and she found a body in the tomb, we would have no reason to celebrate. There would be no Easter.

The truth of Easter demands an answer from each of us.

“Who is it you are looking for?”

Maybe you’re one of those believers like Peter who initially put your faith and trust in Jesus at an early age. When you think of Jesus, you think of him as savior. You have his identity right, but not his intent. Being saved is more than a point in time reality. Salvation is so much more than that moment in time decision to follow Christ. It’s more than that initial decision you made to trust him. Being saved is knowing Christ daily. Growing in him daily. Making every effort to live a more Christ-like life every day. Letting him be the boss of your life today and always.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and make him Lord of your life. Every day.

Maybe your understanding is similar to Judas’ “genie in a lantern” concept of God. Rub the lantern and get three wishes. God is there to answer my prayer. Give me what I want when I want it. There are those who try to mold God into their own image rather than letting God mold them into his. When we try to make God into our own image, he will always disappoint us. Why would we trust a God who is no more perfect than us?

God’s plan for your life is far better than anything you can dream on your own. He wants the best for us. Thank God for the unanswered prayers because he knows what’s best. Thank God when God makes us wait on him because his timing is best.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus and trust him to meet your needs. Every day.

Maybe this Easter celebration will be meaningful because you get it. Jesus died on a cross as a willing sacrifice for your sins. He rose again. A living Lord. In difficult times, he is your strength. When you don’t know which way to turn, he is your guide. You’ve embraced his presence in your life and recognize that he is still your Rabboni. Personal and Intimate. Your Teacher. Those closest to Christ know that he is still teaching you daily how to live like him.

Who is it you are looking for? Look for Jesus, your strength. Your companion. Your teacher.

Statistics tell us Easter Sunday will draw many to worship. That is my hope and prayer. Every person who walks in the door should be blessed.

I pray that everyone who walks through the sanctuary doors will look for Jesus in all his fullness. It is a choice each of us can make, but it won’t happen unless we come with that question on our hearts.

It won’t happen, unless I am willing to ask the question as I enter to his presence in worship.

“Who is it I am looking for?”

Don’t Squander Your Inheritance

Background Passages: Genesis 25:27-34 and Romans 8:15b-17

Using some borrowed cash and his personal savings, Frank Winfield Woolworth bought some discounted merchandise to sell to the general public at reduced cost. He opened his first Woolworth’s Great Five Cent Store in Utica, NY, in 1879. Though that first store went out of business, he kept working and reopened again in Pennsylvania to greater success.

Eventually, Woolworth built his business into a retail corporation worth $25.9 billion in its heyday. Over the years, the company was handed down through the family until the last Woolworth’s closed its doors in 1997. Though the company lives on with a smaller, more targeted product line under the name of Foot Locker, Woolworth’s, as a corporation, no longer exists.

At one point, Woolworth’s granddaughter Barbara Hutton assumed leadership in the corporation. Many people point fingers at Hutton as the first of the Woolworths to start squandering her inheritance. Even though they were the biggest name in business, patriarch F. W Woolworth’s granddaughter knew nothing about making money, and instead vowed never to work a day in her life. By the time she was on her seventh husband, she had lost almost her entire fortune.

All of us would like to leave something of substantial value for our children. If we’re blessed enough to do so, we hope we’ have raised them well enough that they do not misuse the gift they have been given.

Sadly, it is not uncommon to see the second or third generation squander in a season all of the hard work, value, and wealth created by the first generation. When the sons or daughters spend away all which they’ve been given, it’s usually because they take for granted what they have, possessing a sense of entitlement.

What is true in this temporal and material world takes on even greater important in the eternal and spiritual realm. As the beneficiary of a spiritual inheritance of immense value, I know how easy it can be to squander all that God has given us. When I read the Woolworth story this week and wrapped it in spiritual terms, I had to ask myself as I’m asking you, “Are we squandering our God-gifted inheritance?”

It is, I think, a viable question.

*****

He dragged himself back home, weary and filthy after days hunting wild game. He comes empty-handed. Other than one scrawny rabbit, he killed nothing. The long trek home was nothing short of miserable. His quiver empty of arrows and his stomach roiling with hunger as he crested the ridge overlooking his father’s encampment.

The hunter caught the aroma of a rich lentil stew carried on the smoke from the open pit near his father’s tent. Hunger drove him forward.

Young. Impetuous. Famished. Esau rushed to the tent where his brother Jacob sat stirring the pot, sampling from his ladle the tasty broth.

As Jacob sampled the stew, he saw his twin brother making a beeline for the fire pit. Normally quiet and reserved, Jacob did not enjoy confrontation, but something about Esau always set Jacob’s teeth on edge. Seeing the ravenous look on his brother’s face, Jacob’s devious streak flashed.

“Mmmmmm,” Jacob overplayed the taste of the stew, adding a pinch more salt, a look of rapture on his face. “This is soooo good,” he said to himself, knowing that Esau would hear.

Esau plopped to the ground beside the boiling pot, his mouth watering in anticipation. “Quick, let me have some of that red stew! I’m famished!”

Jacob sat back on his heels, giving Esau a sad look. “I don’t know,” he said. “I made this for Father. Maybe you can have the leftovers.”

“There were no deer anywhere,” complained Esau. “I’ve not eaten in days. Give me some stew!”

“I tell you what,” said Jacob, pouring some of the stew into a wooden bowl and wafting it under Esau’s nose. “First, sell me your birthright.”

“Look, I’m about to die,” Esau said. “What good is a birthright to me?”

“Swear to me first,” insisted Jacob. Grudgingly uttering an oath, Esau surrendered his birthright to Jacob.

“Then, Jacob gave Esau some bread and some lentil stew. He ate and drank and then got up and left. So Esau despised his birthright.”

One has to wonder how often Esau regretted his impetuous disregard of his inheritance. He was hungry, but not starving. For a morsel of food and the temporary satisfaction of a full belly, he gave up that to which he was legally entitled.

I suspect as the years passed, he forgot about it most days, perhaps thinking that Jacob would regard the transaction as a joke between brothers. I doubt either son ever told Isaac of the deal they had made. For his part, Jacob kept the oath in his robe pocket, ready to pull it out when the time was right.

Let’s talk first about this birthright. Thought it is an inheritance, there is no strong 21st century equivalent to the ancient birthright. Our culture is not wired the same way.

In the Hebrew culture, the birthright was a matter of wealth and status. Upon his death, the father’s possessions were divided equally among all the male children, except the firstborn son received a double portion. Under ordinary circumstances when Isaac died, Esau, as the oldest son, would be entitled to two-thirds of Isaac’s wealth. Jacob would receive the final one-third.

This whole situation seems deceitful and completely unfair. Jacob took advantage of his brother in a weak moment to strip him of his inheritance. It makes us cringe a little. However, God knows the heart. When Rebekah became pregnant with the twins, God revealed to Isaac and his wife that the younger son would be the prominent son.

“Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples from within you will be separated. one people will be stronger than the other and the older will serve the younger.” (Genesis 25:23)

We tend to look down on Jacob for his duplicity, but God’s plan depended on the man Jacob would become, not the man he was at the time. He knew how Esau would disregard is birthright.

It is an intriguing story, but how does it answer our initial question? Are we squandering our God-gifted inheritance? Are we doing something that would strip us of God’s blessing?

Let’s first establish our right to a godly inheritance.

In the New Testament, believers in Christ are called the “children of God.” Look at John 1:12-13.

“Yet to all who receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor or human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.”

Being born again through our faith in Jesus Christ and the grace of God, we become his heirs, worthy of our inheritance.

“…but you received the spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, ‘Abba. Father.’ And the Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs—-heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ.” (Romans 8:15b-17)

Clearly, scripture teaches that all believers in Christ receive an inheritance by virtue of being a child of God. It is an inheritance with benefits in the here and now as well as in the eternal. We are asked to honor that inheritance with our lives.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.” (Colossians 3:23)

Hebrew culture allowed the father to strip the eldest son of his first-born rights if the father felt him unworthy.

With our spiritual inheritance guaranteed by Christ, we are still asked to live lives worthy of the gift. How might we squander that which we’ve been given? One of the keys is that almost parenthetical sentence in Genesis 25:34.

“So Esau despised his birthright.”

Culture and tradition all but guaranteed Esau a double portion of his father’s inheritance, yet we’re told he “despised his birthright.” It is not that Esau hated the whole idea of getting a double portion. In Hebrew, to despise something, to hate something, is a matter of choice. To despise your inheritance means you put other things ahead of it. To choose something else. In the heat of the moment, Esau chose a single bowl of bean soup over that to which he was entitled.

Other translations say that Esau “profaned his birthright.” That word takes on a different connotation in the 21st century, speaking primarily to crude and vulgar language. In Scripture the term suggests a broader scope. The idea conveys a lack of holiness. To take something that is righteous and good and treat it with contempt.

Esau profaned his God-given and special birthright by trading it for something cheap and ordinary…as if it meant nothing to him.

I wonder how many times I’ve approached my birthright as a child of God with the same level of disregard as Esau demonstrated. How often have I taken my spiritual inheritance for granted? How often have I treated my spiritual birthright too casually? Trading it in for something so inconsequential as a bowl of stew…satisfying in the moment, but with no lasting value.

Paul told the Colossians, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord…” I will not do that if I value a bowl of stew more than I value God’s provision, plan and purpose for my life.

Consider the writer of Hebrews as he posed a rhetorical question to his readers. If the world becomes more important to us that the inheritance God provides then “how shall we escape (God’s judgment) if we ignore such a great salvation?”

The world promises us that the stew is going to taste so good that everything else pales in comparison. It’s going to promise us that if we just eat the stew the hunger will never return. It’s going to promise that the stew…the wealth, the fame, the power, the position will mean more to us that anything God offers.

Here’s the deal though. Stew is not salvation. It’s just stew.

We squander our God-given inheritance when the stew is more important than the salvation. We squander our inheritance when we give too little thought to God and his purpose and will for our lives. We squander our inheritance when we fail to give God’s grace gift the value it deserves. We squander our inheritance when we fail to live as if it matters more than anything else in this world.

This is the lesson I learn from Esau. I can never forget, not for a minute, that God and his promises are holy. I am his and he is mine. When I forget that simple fact, or when I give that relationship anything less than the highest priority in my life, I squander the chance to experience the blessings he promises me.

Claim that inheritance offered through Jesus Christ. Through your witness and your work, increase its value. Frank Woolworth’s daughter squandered her inheritance. Don’t squander the inheritance God gave you no matter how tasty the stew looks.

Amen?

Amen!

A Seat at His Table

Background Passages: I Samuel 30:1-6; 2 Samuel 9:1-12; I Peter 1:4; and Romans 1:17

I was probably 12 years old when it happened. During our extended family gatherings, the children piled their plates with food and sat around folding tables in my grandmother’s living room, listening surreptitiously to the adult conversations in the dining room next door, longing for the day when we could sit at the big table.

There was something maturing about sitting among the adults. The teasing among cousins in the “kid’s room” gave way to the easy listening to life lessons and good-natured banter among my parents and my uncles and aunts. I found it riveting. I also found it much easier to reach the ham and coconut cream pie.

I thought of that today when in my Bible study I came across I story I read long ago and forgot. It’s a great reminder today about why we get to sit at the big table.

Bad news travels fast.
Israel’s army routed.
Saul and Jonathan slain in battle.
As the news breaks,
panic ran rampant throughout the encampment.

We’ll call her “Eglah.”
A nursemaid for Jonathan’s son,
Mephibosheth.
The young maiden scooped the frightened five-year-old
into her arms,
raced passed the tents,
pushed through the throng of terrified people.

Into the hills they escaped,
as far from the battlefield as possible.
As she climbed the rocky path carrying the young child,
Eglah tripped on a tree root.
Stumbled and fell to the ground,
crushing the child between her and the unyielding rocks.

He shrieked in pain.
Both ankles broken,
twisted at unnatural angles.

Alone and scared,
Eglah wrapped the shattered bones as best she could,
lifted the sobbing child again into her arms
and continued her flight to the east.
Five days later, the two refugees crossed the Jordan River
Finding a safe haven in the home of a friend in Lo Debar.
A nothing place.
Off the beaten path.
A great place to hide.

Eglah.
A simple maiden.
Knew enough of the world to know
that a new king
would seek out all descendants of the old ruler
to eliminate every threat to his reign.

In terror they hid in Lo Debar
Fearful of every stranger
who chanced upon their village.
In hiding for 15 years.
Mephibosheth’s feet never healed properly,
Leaving him a cripple both in body and spirit.

Meanwhile, across the Jordan in a
conquered Jerusalem…

King David.
Stood on the balcony of his palace
overlooking the valley below.
The journey to this place difficult.
Anointed by God as a child.
The future king of Israel.
A youth spent avoiding the insanity of Saul.
Fighting battles with the Philistines.
Leading armies against the
Moabites and the Edomites.

Finally, after years of war,
surveyed the land he now controlled from Jerusalem’s walls
and declared peace.
Standing at last where God
called him to stand.

Yet on a day when all was right,
his heart rang hollow…empty.
He always envisioned sharing moments like this
with his best friend Jonathan.
David still mourned his death
after so many years.
Jonathan’s friendship had been a
God-given gift.

Standing on the balcony this day,
David remembered the promise Jonathan
asked of David so long ago.

“Please show to me your unfailing kindness
like the Lord’s kindness
as long as I live,
so that I may not be killed,
and do not ever cut off your kindness from my family…”
(I Samuel 20:14-15)

David intended to honor that covenant.
Calling for his advisors,
David asked,

“Is there anyone still left of the house of Saul
to whom I can show kindness for
Jonathan’s sake?”
(2 Samuel 9:1)

And the search began.

Eventually, David discovered Mephibosheth,
living under the radar,
out of sight,
in a nothing place on the
outer edge of the kingdom.

Read the rest of the story for yourself.

“When Mephibosheth, son of Jonathan, son of Saul,
came to David, he bowed down to pay him honor.

“David said, ‘Mephibosheth!’

“’Your servant,’ he replied.

“’Don’t be afraid,’ David said to him,
‘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.’

“Mephibosheth bowed down and said,
‘What is your servant,
that you should notice a dead dog like me?’

“So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table
like one of the king’s sons.”

(2 Samuel 9:6-8, 11)

I find in this heart-warming Bible story, a clear message of God’s desire for a relationship with a broken and self-isolated world. I find common ground with Mephibosheth. Any believer redeemed by God should relate to the experience of being granted grace undeserved by a king. The budding relationship between God and Mephibosheth is a perfect picture of God’s relationship to you and me.

Nothing in the realm of world politics required David to care for Mephibosheth. In fact, David’s advisors surely warned him against bringing Saul’s grandson into the city. For his part, Mephibosheth understood enough to know his life was not his own. He harbored no illusions that if he were ever discovered by the king, his life was forfeit. Kingdom politics at play. When he dragged his useless feet into the throne room, bowed before the king in sincere humility, he knew mercy was his only hope.

Nothing in the spiritual realm requires God to reach out to a sinful humanity. He is the Creator God. Our rebellion deserved punishment. Yet, he made a covenant of grace with his people. A promise he would eternally keep. Kingdom reality at play. While we deserved death, he found a way to give us new life. Mercy is our only hope.

For his part, David made a promise long ago to Jonathan, a man he viewed as a brother. It was a covenant rooted in love and watered by grace. Once he got wind of a living child of Jonathan, David found him in a desolate place…disabled, disheartened, defeated by the cruelty of life. But when he looked into his eyes, he saw the eyes of Jonathan and his heart leapt with joy. “Mephibosheth!”

It is the same celebration enjoyed by the Father and his angels when a sinner repents. God looks into the eyes of the sinner and sees the eyes of Jesus and his heart leaps with joy. “Kirk!” God celebrated in the same way when every believer bowed before the king. He longs to celebrate with every lost child who now lives in Lo Debar fearful of being discovered by a God whose heart he does not understand.

David did two things for Mephibosheth so illustrative of God’s compassion and grace toward us. First, he returned his dignity. Living so long in his nothing place, Mephibosheth saw himself equal to his surroundings. A bundle of self-loathing on crutches. Wretched. Crippled. Unworthy. A mirror image of every humiliating taunt the misguided attached to his name. In his own words, a “dead dog.” Dogs were detested in Jewish culture, considered unclean. A dead dog was a double whammy.

David did the unthinkable. He called him by name. No longer “crippled.” No longer “damaged goods.” No longer “lost,” “forgotten,” or “alone.” Look at it in the scripture. He was “Mephibosheth!” With an exclamation point, not a question mark or a simple period.

The first gift David gave to Mephibosheth was to return to him his dignity. The first gift God gives to us is to call us by name and declare us worthy of his love through the sacrificial death and miraculous resurrection of his son, Jesus Christ. All dignity we lost as sinners returned when he called us by name.

Secondly, David restored Mephibosheth all he had lost. By adopting him into his family, David restored his inheritance and gave him a seat at the king’s table. Think prodigal son. The father, watching every day, praying for his son’s return. Seeing him returning on the horizon he calls for the ring and robe and prepared a banquet in his honor. Returning him to the seat he once occupied. Far more than Mephibosheth could have hoped. Far more, he knew, than he deserved.

Is that not an amazing example of God’s grace toward us?

In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade…kept in heaven for you…” (I Peter 1:4)

Now, if we are children, then we are heirs…heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may share in his glory.” Romans 1:17

Through the salvation he offers, he grants us an eternal seat at his table. Forever a child of the king. A place of belonging.

Grace is not an easy concept to grasp. We define it with two words. “Unmerited favor.” We trust it as the basis of our salvation. Though we sing it with fervor I’m not sure we understand how amazing it truly is.

God painted this beautiful picture of grace and the story of Mephibosheth was its canvas. All I know is that I was Mephibosheth and Mephibosheth was me. And today, by the good grace of God, I have a place at the king’s table.

Passion Week-Friday: Renewal

Background Passages: John 18:1-19:37, John 3:16-17, Ephesians 2:8, John 19:38-42, and John 12:32

Nine hours.

540 minutes.

32,400 seconds.

That’s all the time it took the religious leaders to arrest Jesus and to nail him on the cross. Nine hours. When Jesus whispered, “It is finished,” and breathed a sigh of release, the religious leaders patted each other on the back and breathed a sigh of relief. It was finished. They had won.

In one of the world’s best examples of a kangaroo court, Caiaphas, the high priest, and other religious officials, manufactured the evidence and brow beat a Roman governor to bend him to their will. By killing Jesus, they protected their standing among the Jewish people. Brutally efficient. Politically effective.

Little did they realize that they played right into God’s hand. Scripture tells us when the time was right, the sovereign God sent his son to live among his creation, to teach them what it means to be a part of his kingdom and to die as a substitute for the failures of a sinful world.

In those nine hours, God expressed his deepest love.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” (John 3:16-17)

In those nine hours, we learn the very definition of grace.

“For it is by grace you are saved through faith—and this not from yourself. It is a gift from God. (Ephesians 2:8)

In those nine hours, we see the deepest love and the greatest gift of all time. In those nine hours, we see the beginning of Easter.

This will not be a typical Easter weekend. In the middle of this pandemic, our churches will be mostly empty, despite the creative ways congregations find to worship. Easter will be less public and more private. More personal. Maybe that’s not altogether bad thing.

It’s a hard truth. Most Easter Sundays find churches with their pews filled with faces who rarely enter the church doors throughout the year. Believers, for the most part, for whom the cross gets stuffed in the closet after Easter service along with their new dresses, suits and shoes. They’ll pull it out again next year, but what about the months between?

I really don’t intend for that to sound harsh or critical, though I suspect it does. I attend church almost every weekend and I know I’ve failed God more times that I care to admit. It’s not about our failures. It’s about what we do from this moment on with the cross. How do we let it change our lives?

Caiaphas and the other religious leaders rejoiced at Jesus’ death. Though they read the scriptures regularly. They clearly misunderstood the words. They projected their own interpretation of God’s word and created an image of the Messiah that Jesus did not fit. As a result, they nailed him to a cross and mocked him. “If you really are the chosen one, prove it to us once and for all by coming down from the cross.” When Jesus did nothing, they laughed, patted each other on the back and went on their way.

One thief joined the religious elite, mocking Jesus and telling him to get all of them off the cross if he was who he claimed to be. The repentant thief, on the other hand, scolded his partner in crime for his shameful words. Though he knew he deserved the death to which he had been sentenced, he recognized in the things Jesus said and did while on the cross that Jesus was innocent. He saw enough in Jesus to repent of his own sin and give his life to him, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Each of us as believers in Christ had to get to that point. Convicted of our own sin and seeing into the heart of Jesus, we gave our lives to him. Too often, we let the genuine thrill of that experience fade with time. We trust him as savior, try to live according to his word, but, whether out of embarrassment or fear, we hide our faith from others…stepping from the shadows to light only on Easter or when it is convenient for us.

What do we do with the cross? I hope we do what Joseph of Arimathea did.

Joseph was a Pharisee, a member of the ruling council. Luke describes him as a “good and upright man.” John tells us Joseph was a follower of Jesus. He had heard Jesus teach and believed in who he was. Joseph accepted Jesus as his savior, his Messiah. But, and this is still too often true today of many believers, Joseph kept his relationship to Christ private. He was afraid of what the Jewish leaders would do to him.

When Jesus died on the cross, Joseph came alive spiritually. His fear forgotten, Joseph of Arimathea approached Pilate, the man who sentenced Jesus to die, asking the governor’s permission to take Jesus from the cross and bury him properly. The cowardice and fear that kept his faith silent vanished. His bold and public request testified for Jesus in a way that everyone, including the religious leaders, could see.

Jesus had been dead less than an hour and already his words proved true.

“But if I be lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men to myself.” (John 12:32)

Joseph, who privately made his faith commitment, found himself drawn to the cross of Christ, decided it was time to make his relationship to Christ public. Time for a re-commitment.

This will not be our typical Easter. Despite creative ways to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus, most churches will remain closed. The pews, normally full of people, will remain empty. The word of God will be proclaimed this weekend in many ways. We will see Jesus on the cross, high and lifted up.

Be drawn to him. Wherever we have been reticent to express our faith and trust in him, let’s leave that hesitation at the foot of the cross. It’s my prayer this weekend that we all be drawn to the cross, recommitted to live and work for him each day. It’s my prayer that we all let the cross change us. May we use the incredibly sacrifice of Jesus to renew our faith commitment and boldly proclaim to the world that we are his.

For God so loved the world…

Freedom to Worship

Background Passages: John 8:31-32; Mark 12:28-31; Romans 10:13-14

The words of the Declaration of Independence, the United States Constitution and the Bill of Rights ought to inspire anyone with a pulse and a sense of history. Yet, we take these hallowed documents for granted, too often trying to bend them to match a personal perspective never envisioned by our country’s founders.

When you see the originals, written by hand on parchment and preserved behind glass in the rotunda of The National Archives, the effect is sobering. The dim, protective light made it difficult to read the 241-year-old words. Having to concentrate on the faded script only added to the power of the words written by men like Thomas Jefferson, George Mason and James Madison.

Every phrase I read spoke volumes, but one phrase kept coming to mind for hours afterward. On the original Bill of Rights, it is listed as the third amendment to the U. S. Constitution, the first two being rejected by Congress. That amendment, which subsequently became the First Amendment, said,

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”

Any mention of religious freedom was left out of the original Constitution because most of the states had some form of state-supported religion…Maryland, New York, North Carolina, South Carolina and Virginia sanctioned the Anglican/Church of England. Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire sponsored the Puritan or Congregational Church.

James Madison of Virginia, largely credited for writing much of the Constitution, led the charge to get the document ratified in his home state. He met serious opposition from Baptist pastor, John Leland, a determined advocate for freedom of religion and freedom of speech.

Madison campaigned to be elected as a delegate to Virginia’s convention to ratify the constitution. He vocally opposed any early amendments, fearing it would derail ratification. Leland pushed back, opposing ratification without an amendment guaranteeing basic freedoms.

Recognizing Leland probably had enough votes to defeat him, Madison agreed to introduce the Bill of Rights once the constitution was ratified if Leland would not run against him. Both men honored their agreement. Madison introduced the Bill of Rights on May 4, 1789, which was ratified by the states two years later.

The idea of religious liberty is still unique in the world. The Baptist Joint Committee on Religious Liberty (BJC) says that religious liberty is the “freedom to believe and exercise or act upon religious conscience without unnecessary interference by the government.” The idea gives one the freedom to practice or not practice religion of any kind.

Religious freedom is not without boundary. Some religions involve beliefs that conflict with other laws. In those cases, the courts must decide how to accommodate sincere religious beliefs while protecting the people’s interests, including shielding those who may not share the same religious beliefs.

The BJC puts it simply. “Do not ask government to promote your religion if you don’t want government to promote someone else’s religion; and do not permit government to hinder somebody else’s religion if you don’t want government to hinder your own religion.”

Leland wrote in the 18th century, “Government should protect every man in thinking and speaking freely and see that one does not abuse another. This liberty I contend is for more that toleration. The very idea of toleration is despicable. It supposes that some have a preeminence above the rest to grant indulgence, whereas all should be equally free. Jews. Turks. Pagans and Christians.”

There is growing evidence of intolerance in government laws and regulations toward the Christian faith that seem to “prohibit the free exercise” of religion. Leland and Madison, I believe, would argue against such intrusions. They would also argue against Christian leaders’ insistence of greater government support for the Christian faith.

Staring at the original Bill of Rights in its case on display in Washington, D.C., served as a great reminder of the original intent of the First Amendment. As much as I might believe the world would be a better place if we all lived as my Christian faith says we must live, I cannot insist that the government must push my beliefs on every citizen. As it concerns religion, government must remain neutral. It’s a fine line, I admit.

For me, then, my Christian imperative is far less political than spiritual.

Neither political nor moral law provides a path to salvation in Christ. Neither political nor moral law is a path to service in Christ. Calling ourselves a Christian nation doesn’t bring a single soul to saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

The free exercise of our faith on a political level without demonstrating the love of Christ daily with those we meet is meaningless. It is not government’s responsibility to “make disciples of all nations.” It is my responsibility. It is the role of the church.

As the Pharisees claimed a political and moral superiority over Christ, he offered one of the most profound statements in response. He said,

“If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” (John 8:31-32)

The truth is that Jesus came to free us from the eternal consequences of sin. To give us a path to everlasting life offered as a grace gift of God. That’s not political. It’s personal. God gave his son on a cross not that we might have a Christian prayer in schools or the right to post a copy of the Ten Commandments in a courthouse, but that we might experience life as God intended it to be lived. And that we might love and serve others in such a way as to draw them into a right relationship with Christ…to set them free as we are free.

I just get a feeling Jesus would be less worried about the political realities than he would these spiritual truths. The Pharisees were stuck in the law to exclusion of everything else. When a few of them came to Jesus to question him about paying taxes to Caesar and about their own internal arguments about religious matters, he tried to help them through their confusion. Finally, one asked him to name the paramount law or commandment.

Jesus kept it simple.

“The most important one is this: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

Nothing in the current political realm can keep us from having a relationship with Christ. Nothing in this political climate keeps us from loving others and finding ways to meet their needs. That’s what was ultimately important to Jesus. It ought to be what is important to me.

I don’t need government to restrict the faith traditions of others in order to advance the Christian faith. I must use my freedom as an American and my freedom in Christ to convince others of their need for him…revealing to them his love for everyone…by living the life God intended me to live…by meeting the needs of all I encounter.

I’m grateful to live in a nation, under the protection of the Bill of Rights, that guarantees our right to worship or not worship as we please.

I am more grateful to live in relationship with Christ, under the eternal protection of God, that enables me to share his grace with those who might not believe as I do. To serve others in such a way as to draw them to Christ.

Our only hope of being a Christian nation comes when those of us who claim the name of Christ share his love by word and example in such a way as to convince one person, then another, and then another, to freely accept the grace gift of God.

“For everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved. How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them.”

We will never be a Christian nation by law. We will become a Christian nation when hearts are changed and people embrace the freedom that comes from knowing Jesus Christ as savior.

It seems to me that’s religious freedom as God meant it to be.

When God is Silent

Background Passage: Matthew 15:21-28; Mark 7:24-30

It had been an emotionally brutal and tiring time in Jesus’ life. Opponents within the religious hierarchy grew more brazen and belligerent in their handling of Jesus. His popularity challenged their reputations and status with the people of Israel.

Jesus’ disciples struggled with their identity and understanding of his teachings. Inconsistent in their faith. Unsure of the nature of his “kingdom of heaven.” The people who followed him seemed more interested in his miracles than his message.

As he pressed through these things, Jesus received word that John the Baptist, his cousin and the man who so beautifully set the stage for his ministry, had been beheaded at the order of the regional governor. A foreboding reminder of the inevitable outcome of his own life.

Jesus bore the weight of his responsibilities, emotionally and physically spent by the constant demands on his spirit and his time. Jesus needed to get away with his disciples to recharge his batteries and spend a little more time teaching them, opening their eyes to the needs of the Gentile world.

Perhaps that’s the reason he journeyed northwest of Galilee to Sidon and Tyre, a region he rarely traveled. Mark tells us he spent some time in the home of someone he evidently knew…a place where he hoped to find some privacy without the press of the crowd and the pernicious power plays of the Pharisees.

Along the way a Canaanite woman, a Gentile from the area, came to him with a serious problem. Her daughter was sick, suffering terribly from demon possession. The young mother pleaded with Jesus, begging for mercy from the “Son of David,” a popular, political title. She recognized him initially only as a great man of power. Her last hope.

What happens next is unexpected and unusual. The woman calls out to Jesus for mercy and healing…and he ignores her. Scripture says,

“Jesus did not answer a word.”

He continued walking to his destination while the woman continued to follow and beg. Jesus remained unmoved. The verses make us uncomfortable. This is not the Jesus about whom we want to read. The man we’ve seen touch without fear an unclean leper. The man who placed compassionate hands on the eyes of a blind man. That same sensitive and empathetic miracle worker that we know seemed to turn his back on a woman crying out in need.

Despite his silence, the woman stayed after Jesus. So persistent was her pleading that the disciples grew impatient and irritated. “Heal her or don’t,” they seemed to say to Jesus. “Just get rid of her. She’s getting on our nerves.” The implication…she’s not one of us.

Jesus finally speaks. What he tells the disciples, likely overheard by the Gentile woman, seems even more harsh than his silence.

“I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

The words imply that because the woman is not Jewish, Jesus is not responsible for her need. He has no role to play in this life episode. And, we grow more uncomfortable by his apparent disregard.

Finally, Jesus arrives at the house that was his intended destination. Despite his earlier comment, the woman followed Jesus, still asking for his intervention to save her daughter. The woman didn’t let a doorway stand as an obstacle. She came into the room with Jesus, knelt at his feet. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she cried,

“Lord, help me!”

There is a change in her address and her demeanor. Jesus’ silence and his statement of God’s purpose and plan, the conceptual became reality. “Lord,” she cried. No longer political and popular, but a clearer understanding of the true nature of God’s son. Humility took her to her knees in reverence and worship.

The lessons didn’t end there as Jesus continued to teach. He wanted her to fully embrace this new relationship by challenging her cultural perspectives…by challenging the cultural perspectives of his disciples.

“He replied, ‘It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.”

No! He didn’t just say that, did he? The Jews’ hatred and prejudice toward any Gentile ran deep. To call a Gentile a “dog” was the pejorative term of the day. An insult of deepest intent. If you weren’t feeling uncomfortable yet, you probably are now.

Thankfully, the true meaning gets lost in our translation. The word Jesus used for “dog” is not the same word interpreted as “cur,” the slanderous meaning used by Jews toward most Gentiles. The term Jesus used is a word that speaks of a puppy, the beloved family pet who was fed from the family table.

I’m betting the woman’s ears picked up on the difference. I’m betting the disciples did as well. She heard his gentle, teasing tone. Saw the light dancing in his eyes. The grin on his face. A playful smile of understanding now on her face, she responded lightly in kind.

“Yes, Lord, but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

This woman recognized what I often fail to see. Any mercy from a loving God is good grace. She knew that a crumb of grace from Jesus would be life-changing for her daughter. She would not rest until she received even a small portion of his loving mercy.

Jesus reacted to her words with great joy.

“’Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.’ And her daughter was healed from that very hour.”

What I’ve come to realize over my lifetime of study is that Jesus never did anything, never went anywhere without a purpose. So in touch was he with the will of his father that nothing surprised him. For example, Jesus once ignored the normal route to Jerusalem by cutting directly south through Samaria. He did so not to save a few steps from a long journey. He did so knowing he would encounter a woman at the well in need of the living water only he could give.

I believe he went to this knowing he would encounter someone along the way who needed his touch. Maybe he didn’t know exactly who would come, but he knew someone would reach out to him. I believe he went to this place to open his disciples eyes to the possibilities of a broader ministry beyond their personal boundaries.

Nevertheless, Jesus did not react to this woman the way he reacted to others who came to him. Jesus wasn’t just having one of those bad days where he didn’t want to deal with anyone. That’s too much…well…too much like me.

We certainly aren’t to just excuse his behavior and write it off as we whisper to one another, “You know, he’s dealing with a lot in his life. We should cut him some slack.” Jesus, the perfect representative of God’s love on earth, didn’t get annoyed like that. That wasn’t who he was at any time of his life on earth.

If his response seems so out of character, there must be a reason. What could make Jesus behave this way?

Let me offer a thought.

As with most of his encounters, Jesus asked questions or led a challenging conversation, or gave a look that required people to scrutinize their own beliefs. To see their relationship to God through a different lens. This woman, and his disciples, needed that lesson.

I see Jesus’ response to the Canaanite woman in the same light. His silence was disconcerting to her. Made her uncomfortable as it would make us. Jesus needed her to look inside her heart to find a true faith. He needed her to understand who he truly was so she could get the most out of this relationship.

The woman had a choice when met with Jesus’ silence. She could have walked away angry. “He doesn’t care.” “He’s not the man I hoped he would be.” “He doesn’t love me.” It’s a natural reaction of the brokenhearted. When my prayer seems to get no response from God, I tend to sit around, impatiently drumming my fingers on my Bible, muttering under my breath, “You promised to”…”You said you would”…always wondering why he is not responding to my petition.

The delay in God’s response, his silence, is sometimes only because my faith needs to catch up to my situation, giving me time to align my will with his. I can’t do that if I walk away from the conversation.

Jesus wanted this Canaanite woman to think about her request. To think about what she was asking of him. To explore her motivation. To reflect on why her heart was calling out to him and why it was telling her this was the man to see. Jesus’ silence made her think and dig more deeply into the relationship she was seeking with him. He was giving her time to let her faith catch up to her need.

Jesus eventually broke his silence, but his response was not what she wanted or expected. Jesus reminded her and his disciples that his God-given purpose was to bring salvation to the Jews first. To fulfill God’s covenant with his people. His disciples were destined, however, to play a different role. They needed to see it modeled in front of their eyes.

Again, it would be out of character for Jesus to turn her away because she was not Jewish. It was as if he was telling her, “Think! This is who I am. What is it you really desire? What will it take for you to understand me.

The woman could have walked away in anger again at this point. “You’re not going to help because I’m not Jewish? Really? Fine, forget you!” Her growing faith and her inquisitive heart wouldn’t let her walk away. Perhaps without knowing why, she knew she had to stay engaged in conversation, trying to understand what Jesus was really telling her.

Isn’t that the way it works with us? When I grow frustrated that my prayers are not answered or my needs are left seemingly unmet, I can turn my back on God and walk away, or I can stay connected and engaged with him, trying to glean a clearer understanding of his will in my life. Rather than walk away, I ought to be saying, “What are you trying to teach me, God? What am I missing here?”

It crystalized for the woman and his disciples when Jesus talked about feeding the puppy from the table scraps. It was at this moment that Jesus seemed to know she was on the precipice of understanding. He dangled the bait one more time, hoping she would take it…hook, line and sinker.

I also think it’s at that moment that the Canaanite woman figured it out. She told Jesus she would be satisfied with just a measure of his mercy. Because of who he was even a morsel of his grace would be sufficient to satisfy her need. That’s when Jesus recognize in her the genuine faith of a true believer.

“Woman, what great faith you have!”

You see, the longer we stay in touch with Jesus…even through the silence and the confusion…we allow ourselves the opportunity to be taught by the master teacher the deeper lessons of faith. The woman’s perseverance and patience in a trying time enabled her to see more clearly what God required of her.

God wants us to have that same kind of faith. Persevering. Patient. Pushing through the silence to get to a deeper understanding of who Jesus is and what he can do in our lives.

The silence of an unanswered prayer eats away at us, especially in a world so accustomed to instant gratification. What we want, we want now. Not tomorrow. Now. When our prayers are met with silence, it is easy to walk away. We do it all the time. We struggle with life and presume God no longer cares. When circumstances take a hard turn, we stop coming to Jesus. When Christian brothers or sisters disappoint us, we criticize the hypocrites and abandon the church.

Some of the best teachers in my life were those who refused to accept my half-hearted efforts, knowing I was capable of more. They pushed, probed and prodded to get me to broaden my understanding. That’s what Jesus was doing for this Canaanite woman. His silence asked her to not give up, to keep seeking, to keep knocking until she found what she needed most.

It’s the same lesson we must learn. When we arrive at that place…when worship is real and genuine…that’s when prayers are answered in a way that matches our will to God’s will. Not the other way around.

Maybe that’s what we need to think about the next time our prayers are met with silence.