When I was a kid, we had 4 channels on the TV: 3, 6, 12, 21 and on occasion we could pick up channel 7. I was a teenager when we got channel 23, and we thought that was so cool. The only cartoons we got to watch were on Saturday morning, and you had better watch all you wanted before 11:00 am because that was when the news came on and cartoons were over for another week.
Looney Tunes was my favorite. I loved watching Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd, the Road Runner and the Coyote. In fact, I still love watching them and even have the DVD box set. There was always a shotgun going off somewhere or an anvil being dropped on somebody. The coyote was always buying something from the ACME company that would help him trap the roadrunner. Unfortunately they always backfired, but that too was funny. Sylvester was forever trying to eat Tweety, and I would sit for hours (or however long it was on) just glued to the set and laughing. Ah, good times.
But then I got older, and I heard someone say once that Looney Tunes was one of the most violent shows on television, and I remember thinking, "What an idiot. It's just a cartoon." This person said that watching that kind of violence in a children's show would lead to me becoming a violent person. Admittedly, I rather enjoyed watching it, but I have never one time thought it would be funny to drop an anvil on somebody's head.
Then this morning I was reading the devotional from Deuteronomy and I thought, "Dang, Looney Tunes doesn't hold a candle to this stuff." Deuteronomy 2 recounts the Israelite's wanderings in the desert just before beginning to take the Promised Land. Nearly everywhere they went, God "gave" them this land or that city, but there was a catch, they had to take it by force. I haven't found one place yet where the inhabitants of the city ran out to meet the Israelites, and said, "Hey y'all, come on in. Nah, that's ok, we'll find some place else to live."
They were getting ready to enter into Heshbon, where Sihon reigned as king. To play nice, the Israelites asked Sihon if they could cross through, paying him for whatever food and water they used, but God "made his spirit stubborn" and he refused. Then God delivered him over to the Israelites.
What this story has that Looney Tunes didn't have is this: "At that time we took all his towns and completely destroyed them - men, women, and children. We left no survivors." Now, if you're confused about what that means, it means that everyone in every town was killed by the sword, and their bodies probably piled up and burnt outside the city walls...even the children.
I am all for reading scripture to our kids. In fact, I teach my kids at church every week about some story, or some aspect of scripture. I have to be honest, though, some of this stuff needs an "R" rating, "No one under 17 admitted without adult..." I know it's part of our history, and I realize that today's world is much different, in many ways, than their's was. My question is, how do we justify the violence to someone when we're trying to tell them about our God of grace?
Do we just chalk it off as God having a bad day and folks wound up getting hurt, well actually, killed? Were the people already living in the Promised Land really all that bad? Could they not have found some way to live alongside each other? Was God just trying to make a point? If not, then why the huge loss of life?
I don't pretend to have the answers, but I do enjoy struggling with the questions. One thing I have learned is that when it comes to scripture, there is no such thing as an easy answer.
May God be in your struggling this week.
Peace
J
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Somebody Woke Up Grumpy...
Ok, I did it again. I ran across something this morning in my devotional reading that made me giggle. It was something Jesus had done. Now, please don't misunderstand, I mean no disrespect, but sometimes scripture is good for a laugh. I think that when we don't recognize that, we miss something.
So, here is what made me giggle this morning: Mark 11. Just after Jesus rode into Jerusalem and made his triumphal entry, he and the disciples left town that night. The next morning, he got up and was hungry. He went to a fig tree to see if there was any fruit, and since "it was not the season for figs" it was empty. So, what did he do? He cursed it so that no more fruit would ever grow on it again. I apologize, but I thought that was a little funny.
Now, I am a huge fan of digging farther into the story to see what deeper truths are buried within the words, and I've tried to do that with this one, but I'm getting nothing. With this story, there's no mention of the Pharisees, no obvious connection with Rome, just a fig tree that wasn't in season yet and a missed breakfast. If we look at the rest of the story though, it would almost seem like Jesus woke up in a bad mood. And if there is a deeper truth to the story of the fig tree, I guess that might be it. Not that he woke up in a bad mood, but that he was human just like the rest of us.
I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind at this point in his ministry. He must have known that his time was getting close. He must have known that what he had done the day before was going to raise some eyebrows. Only the Messiah was supposed to ride into Jerusalem on the foal of a donkey, so by doing that he was making a huge statement. Scripture doesn't say, but I can imagine the disciples were pressuring him a little by now; their idea of Messiah and his were a little different. But this morning, all he wanted was some breakfast. Nevermind that figs come into season twice a year, spring and fall, or that he was the Son of God and could have caused figs to appear on the tree. It was early in the morning, it was shaping up to be a rough week, and he was hungry.
So, all things considered, I would have probably done the same thing. We give Jesus plenty of credit for being the Son of God, but sometimes we forget that he was also the son of Joseph. So let him have a bad day every now and then, heaven knows we do. Let him get a little upset because there was nothing to eat for breakfast; you should see me when we run out of milk. Give him a little space on his rough days. He wasn't only human, but he was human.
Peace
J
So, here is what made me giggle this morning: Mark 11. Just after Jesus rode into Jerusalem and made his triumphal entry, he and the disciples left town that night. The next morning, he got up and was hungry. He went to a fig tree to see if there was any fruit, and since "it was not the season for figs" it was empty. So, what did he do? He cursed it so that no more fruit would ever grow on it again. I apologize, but I thought that was a little funny.
Now, I am a huge fan of digging farther into the story to see what deeper truths are buried within the words, and I've tried to do that with this one, but I'm getting nothing. With this story, there's no mention of the Pharisees, no obvious connection with Rome, just a fig tree that wasn't in season yet and a missed breakfast. If we look at the rest of the story though, it would almost seem like Jesus woke up in a bad mood. And if there is a deeper truth to the story of the fig tree, I guess that might be it. Not that he woke up in a bad mood, but that he was human just like the rest of us.
I can only imagine what must have been going through his mind at this point in his ministry. He must have known that his time was getting close. He must have known that what he had done the day before was going to raise some eyebrows. Only the Messiah was supposed to ride into Jerusalem on the foal of a donkey, so by doing that he was making a huge statement. Scripture doesn't say, but I can imagine the disciples were pressuring him a little by now; their idea of Messiah and his were a little different. But this morning, all he wanted was some breakfast. Nevermind that figs come into season twice a year, spring and fall, or that he was the Son of God and could have caused figs to appear on the tree. It was early in the morning, it was shaping up to be a rough week, and he was hungry.
So, all things considered, I would have probably done the same thing. We give Jesus plenty of credit for being the Son of God, but sometimes we forget that he was also the son of Joseph. So let him have a bad day every now and then, heaven knows we do. Let him get a little upset because there was nothing to eat for breakfast; you should see me when we run out of milk. Give him a little space on his rough days. He wasn't only human, but he was human.
Peace
J
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
A Hard Row to Hoe...
I grew up in the tobacco fields of south Graves County. From the time I was around 9 or 10, I spent my summers walking up and down rows of tobacco, hoeing, pulling weeds, pulling suckers, or whatever else needed to be done.
Early summer was the time of year to get rid of the weeds, and we did that with a hoe. Sometimes the weeds weren't bad at all and you could go across the field pretty quick, other times, not so much. As a little kid, the temptation was always there to do a quick scan of the field to pick out the rows with fewer weeds, but even as a kid, my conscience wouldn't let me do that.
Something inside me knew that if I went ahead and took one of the tougher rows, that eventually, it would pay off. And it did. I never had to look for work. I stayed busy when other people that I worked with were sitting at the store waiting for someone to hire them. I'm not saying this to brag or anything, just that sometimes taking the easy way out is not the best way.
This morning's devotional text is from Mark 10. If you're familiar with Mark 10, you'll remember that within that chapter is the story about the rich young ruler. He had kept all the commandments all of his life and had done, he thought, a pretty good job with his life. He hadn't stolen anything or murdered anyone, he had honored his parents, he hadn't lied or committed adultery, but there was something else that was missing.
And then Jesus did it, and I love the way Mark records this. Here's what he says, "Jesus looked at him and loved him." He knew what he was about to say, and he knew that it was going to hit this guy like a brick right between the eyes. So instead of beating the guy over the head with it, he looked at him and loved him, then simply told him what he needed to do. It would be a hard row to hoe.
I know that what we have been called to be is tough, and so did Jesus. But we make decisions everyday either to hoe the hard rows, or not. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me that she really had a hard time being nice to someone she didn't like, but she did it anyhow. She hoed a hard row, and I was proud of her for that.
We won't always be asked to do something as big as selling everything we own and giving all the money to the poor, but in our day to day, there are going to be those moments when Jesus will just look at us and love us because of a decision we are going to have to make. Either we walk away with our heads down, saddened over threatened loss, or we choose the not so easy way out. The decision is always ours.
May Christ love you through your hard rows to hoe.
Peace
J
Early summer was the time of year to get rid of the weeds, and we did that with a hoe. Sometimes the weeds weren't bad at all and you could go across the field pretty quick, other times, not so much. As a little kid, the temptation was always there to do a quick scan of the field to pick out the rows with fewer weeds, but even as a kid, my conscience wouldn't let me do that.
Something inside me knew that if I went ahead and took one of the tougher rows, that eventually, it would pay off. And it did. I never had to look for work. I stayed busy when other people that I worked with were sitting at the store waiting for someone to hire them. I'm not saying this to brag or anything, just that sometimes taking the easy way out is not the best way.
This morning's devotional text is from Mark 10. If you're familiar with Mark 10, you'll remember that within that chapter is the story about the rich young ruler. He had kept all the commandments all of his life and had done, he thought, a pretty good job with his life. He hadn't stolen anything or murdered anyone, he had honored his parents, he hadn't lied or committed adultery, but there was something else that was missing.
And then Jesus did it, and I love the way Mark records this. Here's what he says, "Jesus looked at him and loved him." He knew what he was about to say, and he knew that it was going to hit this guy like a brick right between the eyes. So instead of beating the guy over the head with it, he looked at him and loved him, then simply told him what he needed to do. It would be a hard row to hoe.
I know that what we have been called to be is tough, and so did Jesus. But we make decisions everyday either to hoe the hard rows, or not. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me that she really had a hard time being nice to someone she didn't like, but she did it anyhow. She hoed a hard row, and I was proud of her for that.
We won't always be asked to do something as big as selling everything we own and giving all the money to the poor, but in our day to day, there are going to be those moments when Jesus will just look at us and love us because of a decision we are going to have to make. Either we walk away with our heads down, saddened over threatened loss, or we choose the not so easy way out. The decision is always ours.
May Christ love you through your hard rows to hoe.
Peace
J
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Smart Aleck Jesus
Every now and then, we get a glimpse of another side of our Messiah. It doesn't happen very often, but it's there. I'm not saying he was all the time, but I have found a few places where Jesus was kind of a smart aleck. I can respect that, and it makes me feel a little better about myself.
Maybe smart aleck isn't exactly the right word, but if not, then certainly sarcastic would be a good description at the very least. We had a hint of that in yesterday's blog where he and the disciples were in the boat talking about bread, and I found another place this morning. It's in Mark 9.
This is the story of the demon possessed boy that Jesus healed right after coming down from the Mount of Transfiguration. In this story we hear a father's concern for his child, his plea for help, and then he says something that must have taken Jesus back a bit, at least enough for the smart aleck Jesus to kick in. He said, "If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us." To which Jesus replied, "If you can?"
It's almost as if he's saying, "'If you can?', what do you mean 'If you can?' Of course I can, I'm the Son of God. There is nothing I can't do." And then he goes on to heal the boy.
Ok, confession time. I don't know that Jesus was being a smart aleck here. I just brought that up to get your attention and make myself feel better about my own sarcastic ways. I don't think the father was questioning Jesus' ability to heal his son. I think Jesus' question to the father was about his own faith, but I admit that I have a problem with that.
This passage is a very difficult one for me, especially if Jesus was asking the father if his faith was strong enough to heal his son. I won't go into the details, but this one is personal. I would love to think that Jesus was being a smart aleck in this story because that would make it so easy for me to laugh this one off, and say, "Good one Jesus, you really got him." Then we could knuckle bump and go on.
But the question still haunts me, "If you can?" I must admit, this one has me a little stumped. I may have to dig a little farther into the history and context of this particular passage and see if I can figure out what is going on underneath the story. Its one redeeming quality, however, and the one thing that I don't question, is what the father says next..."I do believe, help my unbelief." It shows his humanity, and I'm glad we have those stories in the scriptures. He was struggling. He knew, I believe, who stood in front of him. He knew his power. Yet, there was something in him that wasn't 100% sure yet. And if we're honest we all have those moments.
May God show you this week that you can.
Peace
J
Maybe smart aleck isn't exactly the right word, but if not, then certainly sarcastic would be a good description at the very least. We had a hint of that in yesterday's blog where he and the disciples were in the boat talking about bread, and I found another place this morning. It's in Mark 9.
This is the story of the demon possessed boy that Jesus healed right after coming down from the Mount of Transfiguration. In this story we hear a father's concern for his child, his plea for help, and then he says something that must have taken Jesus back a bit, at least enough for the smart aleck Jesus to kick in. He said, "If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us." To which Jesus replied, "If you can?"
It's almost as if he's saying, "'If you can?', what do you mean 'If you can?' Of course I can, I'm the Son of God. There is nothing I can't do." And then he goes on to heal the boy.
Ok, confession time. I don't know that Jesus was being a smart aleck here. I just brought that up to get your attention and make myself feel better about my own sarcastic ways. I don't think the father was questioning Jesus' ability to heal his son. I think Jesus' question to the father was about his own faith, but I admit that I have a problem with that.
This passage is a very difficult one for me, especially if Jesus was asking the father if his faith was strong enough to heal his son. I won't go into the details, but this one is personal. I would love to think that Jesus was being a smart aleck in this story because that would make it so easy for me to laugh this one off, and say, "Good one Jesus, you really got him." Then we could knuckle bump and go on.
But the question still haunts me, "If you can?" I must admit, this one has me a little stumped. I may have to dig a little farther into the history and context of this particular passage and see if I can figure out what is going on underneath the story. Its one redeeming quality, however, and the one thing that I don't question, is what the father says next..."I do believe, help my unbelief." It shows his humanity, and I'm glad we have those stories in the scriptures. He was struggling. He knew, I believe, who stood in front of him. He knew his power. Yet, there was something in him that wasn't 100% sure yet. And if we're honest we all have those moments.
May God show you this week that you can.
Peace
J
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Fly on the Wall...
I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall. I would have loved to have been able to watch the conversation that was taking place, to hear the frustration in his voice and see the confusion on their faces.
According to Mark, 9000 men, in addition to women and children, had eaten and been filled by bread that Jesus had created out of practically nothing, but here we are, in the boat with the disciples. They've brought one loaf between them and Jesus is talking about bread.
"Be careful. Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod." Of course he must have been talking about bread. What else has yeast in it? Beer? Wine? It had to be bread. But this was one of those moments where they just didn't get it. It happens. It happened to them, and it happens to us sometimes.
"When I broke the loaves for the 5000, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?"
"Twelve," they replied.
"And when I broke the seven loaves for the 4000, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?"
They answered, "Seven."
He said to them, "Do you still not understand?"
And then he stopped. Not another word about it. He just left them hanging there, scratching their heads, wondering what on earth the one had to do with the other. Jesus could have spoken and filled the boat up with bread for them to eat, one loaf between a dozen or so folks was plenty to eat. They wouldn't be hungry, so this must have been deeper than that.
Jesus was TRYING to teach them about how easy it is to get caught up in the game. The yeast that he was talking about was not the yeast in the loaf they had with them, it was a metaphor. This is one of those moments where I'm glad I'm not a literalist, else I would still be trying to figure out why Jesus wasn't upset that I had only brought one loaf of bread.
The yeast that he was talking about is such a tiny thing, almost imperceptible by itself, but you couple it with other grains of yeast, add a little hot water, mix it into flour and watch what it does. It works its way through the entire batch of dough, changing it from the inside out. That's how it is with the game the world wants us to play, whether it's the Roman Empire, church bureaucracy, or office politics. It begins so imperceptibly small, but before we know it, we are completely consumed.
It starts out as a pat on the back for a job well done, then maybe, "Hey, I need you to do me a favor." Then before we know it we are caught up in something that is way bigger than we are and we don't know how to get free. Jesus is saying, keep an eye out for those things because they're real and they will consume you if you let them. The question then becomes, "How do we avoid it?" The answer is different for every person and every situation.
I wonder if they ever got it. Scripture doesn't say, but part of me wonders how long they sat there, scratching their heads, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Sometimes I wonder why it takes me so long too.
May you hear Christ on a deeper level this week.
Peace
J
According to Mark, 9000 men, in addition to women and children, had eaten and been filled by bread that Jesus had created out of practically nothing, but here we are, in the boat with the disciples. They've brought one loaf between them and Jesus is talking about bread.
"Be careful. Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod." Of course he must have been talking about bread. What else has yeast in it? Beer? Wine? It had to be bread. But this was one of those moments where they just didn't get it. It happens. It happened to them, and it happens to us sometimes.
"When I broke the loaves for the 5000, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?"
"Twelve," they replied.
"And when I broke the seven loaves for the 4000, how many basketfuls of pieces did you pick up?"
They answered, "Seven."
He said to them, "Do you still not understand?"
And then he stopped. Not another word about it. He just left them hanging there, scratching their heads, wondering what on earth the one had to do with the other. Jesus could have spoken and filled the boat up with bread for them to eat, one loaf between a dozen or so folks was plenty to eat. They wouldn't be hungry, so this must have been deeper than that.
Jesus was TRYING to teach them about how easy it is to get caught up in the game. The yeast that he was talking about was not the yeast in the loaf they had with them, it was a metaphor. This is one of those moments where I'm glad I'm not a literalist, else I would still be trying to figure out why Jesus wasn't upset that I had only brought one loaf of bread.
The yeast that he was talking about is such a tiny thing, almost imperceptible by itself, but you couple it with other grains of yeast, add a little hot water, mix it into flour and watch what it does. It works its way through the entire batch of dough, changing it from the inside out. That's how it is with the game the world wants us to play, whether it's the Roman Empire, church bureaucracy, or office politics. It begins so imperceptibly small, but before we know it, we are completely consumed.
It starts out as a pat on the back for a job well done, then maybe, "Hey, I need you to do me a favor." Then before we know it we are caught up in something that is way bigger than we are and we don't know how to get free. Jesus is saying, keep an eye out for those things because they're real and they will consume you if you let them. The question then becomes, "How do we avoid it?" The answer is different for every person and every situation.
I wonder if they ever got it. Scripture doesn't say, but part of me wonders how long they sat there, scratching their heads, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Sometimes I wonder why it takes me so long too.
May you hear Christ on a deeper level this week.
Peace
J
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Well I'll Be...
You know, sometimes I run across stories in the scripture that just make me stop and go, "Hmm, well I'll be." I ran across one of them this morning. It wasn't a new story to me, I'd heard it a dozen times or more, but I read it this morning again for the first time, if that makes any sense.
The devotional track that I've been following has been spending some time in the Book of Numbers recently, and this morning, it was Numbers 21, 22, and 23. This particular story is about the Israelite's journey through the desert and about the time they camped along the border of Moab. Balak was king of Moab and he was worried, in fact, the whole country was worried. There were a lot of people camped at their back door, and only so many resources to go around.
Now Balak did what any good leader would do, he summoned a prophet to put a curse on this group of people. Nothing like a little black magic first thing in the morning, I guess. Balaam, the prophet that had been summoned, refused to go, but then God spoke and said that it was ok, but that Balaam was only to do what God said.
Here is where the story gets interesting. Balaam is riding his donkey to meet Balak and the donkey sees something and spooks. She leaves the road and Balaam beats her to get her back on course. She does this again, and again, Balaam beats her. A third time, she sees something and spooks, this time just laying down. Balaam beat her again, and she turned around and started talking! That's right, I said, the donkey talked. "Hmmm, well I'll be."
I don't know if this story is history or legend, and that is really not important. What is important is the truth within the story, and that being this; when we are headed on a path that might appear to be destructive or dangerous, God COULD employ some pretty extreme measures to get our attention. Balaam didn't listen, in fact, he argued with the donkey, but God opened his eyes and he was able to see what had spooked the donkey in the first place.
As readers of this story, we might be waiting for Alan Funt to jump out and say "Surprise, you're on candid camera!" as if this were some divine practical joke. But he doesn't, and it's not. It's another example of God offering direction for our paths if we pay attention. So, I think I'm going to take a few minutes this week and look at the things that are lying in my path, pay attention to those inner nudgings that we all feel, and see where the road takes me. I must admit, it would be cool to talk to a donkey, but I think I'll pass. As stubborn as I am, and as stubborn as they are, no good would come of it at all.
The devotional track that I've been following has been spending some time in the Book of Numbers recently, and this morning, it was Numbers 21, 22, and 23. This particular story is about the Israelite's journey through the desert and about the time they camped along the border of Moab. Balak was king of Moab and he was worried, in fact, the whole country was worried. There were a lot of people camped at their back door, and only so many resources to go around.
Now Balak did what any good leader would do, he summoned a prophet to put a curse on this group of people. Nothing like a little black magic first thing in the morning, I guess. Balaam, the prophet that had been summoned, refused to go, but then God spoke and said that it was ok, but that Balaam was only to do what God said.
Here is where the story gets interesting. Balaam is riding his donkey to meet Balak and the donkey sees something and spooks. She leaves the road and Balaam beats her to get her back on course. She does this again, and again, Balaam beats her. A third time, she sees something and spooks, this time just laying down. Balaam beat her again, and she turned around and started talking! That's right, I said, the donkey talked. "Hmmm, well I'll be."
I don't know if this story is history or legend, and that is really not important. What is important is the truth within the story, and that being this; when we are headed on a path that might appear to be destructive or dangerous, God COULD employ some pretty extreme measures to get our attention. Balaam didn't listen, in fact, he argued with the donkey, but God opened his eyes and he was able to see what had spooked the donkey in the first place.
As readers of this story, we might be waiting for Alan Funt to jump out and say "Surprise, you're on candid camera!" as if this were some divine practical joke. But he doesn't, and it's not. It's another example of God offering direction for our paths if we pay attention. So, I think I'm going to take a few minutes this week and look at the things that are lying in my path, pay attention to those inner nudgings that we all feel, and see where the road takes me. I must admit, it would be cool to talk to a donkey, but I think I'll pass. As stubborn as I am, and as stubborn as they are, no good would come of it at all.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Go On, Get From Here...
Why is it that when we encounter something we don't understand, we either have to destroy it, or drive it away? I didn't mean to start out with a question, but that's what happened when I started typing.
Even as a kid, I remember times when a stray dog would come into the yard and the first thing I would do is drive it off. I don't know why, because I actually like dogs. I don't think I was taught to do that, so does that make it instinct? Is there something within us that is so terrified of the unfamiliar, or the different, that we cannot allow it to remain near? And what if that something is in no way malicious, but is only perceived as being a threat?
I've noticed a pattern as I study the gospels. There are times in Christ's ministry when he has entered a town, or a village, performed some miracle, and then been run out of town. Have you noticed that? The healing of the demon possessed man in the Gerasenes is one of those. This guy had been terrorizing the village for who knows how long. They couldn't chain him up, because he would just break the chains. He spent all of his time in the tombs and would cut himself and cry out all night. Evidently he was a real menace to society, but then Jesus showed up.
Jesus commanded the spirits to leave the man, they did, and as we flash to the next scene, and this is kind of funny for me, I picture the guy and Jesus sitting around playing cards or something like that. Something totally normal, quiet; you know, something that folks in their right mind would do.
I would think that the folks in that little lakeside village would have been tickled to death that this guy had been cured, but no, no they weren't. Maybe they were ticked that their pigs were gone (we know he wasn't on the Jewish side of that lake by this one little fact...just FYI). Maybe they were afraid of his power. Maybe they weren't sure how to deal with the no longer demon possessed, demon possessed man. We don't know, but they ran Jesus out of town.
What would have happened if they had welcomed them both in? What would have happened if I had taken in one of the stray dogs as a kid? What would happen if we began to look differently at those folks we keep away ourselves?
Maybe I'm just rambling this morning. Perhaps I should wait until the second cup of coffee to start typing, but these are some of the things I think about. There's a whole world of people who are on the fringes, kept away from somebody by something, just waiting to be welcomed in, and we can help break the cycle. The question is, can we let them stay long enough for us, and them, to see that they are people of sacred worth?
Even as a kid, I remember times when a stray dog would come into the yard and the first thing I would do is drive it off. I don't know why, because I actually like dogs. I don't think I was taught to do that, so does that make it instinct? Is there something within us that is so terrified of the unfamiliar, or the different, that we cannot allow it to remain near? And what if that something is in no way malicious, but is only perceived as being a threat?
I've noticed a pattern as I study the gospels. There are times in Christ's ministry when he has entered a town, or a village, performed some miracle, and then been run out of town. Have you noticed that? The healing of the demon possessed man in the Gerasenes is one of those. This guy had been terrorizing the village for who knows how long. They couldn't chain him up, because he would just break the chains. He spent all of his time in the tombs and would cut himself and cry out all night. Evidently he was a real menace to society, but then Jesus showed up.
Jesus commanded the spirits to leave the man, they did, and as we flash to the next scene, and this is kind of funny for me, I picture the guy and Jesus sitting around playing cards or something like that. Something totally normal, quiet; you know, something that folks in their right mind would do.
I would think that the folks in that little lakeside village would have been tickled to death that this guy had been cured, but no, no they weren't. Maybe they were ticked that their pigs were gone (we know he wasn't on the Jewish side of that lake by this one little fact...just FYI). Maybe they were afraid of his power. Maybe they weren't sure how to deal with the no longer demon possessed, demon possessed man. We don't know, but they ran Jesus out of town.
What would have happened if they had welcomed them both in? What would have happened if I had taken in one of the stray dogs as a kid? What would happen if we began to look differently at those folks we keep away ourselves?
Maybe I'm just rambling this morning. Perhaps I should wait until the second cup of coffee to start typing, but these are some of the things I think about. There's a whole world of people who are on the fringes, kept away from somebody by something, just waiting to be welcomed in, and we can help break the cycle. The question is, can we let them stay long enough for us, and them, to see that they are people of sacred worth?
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