Unrighteous Indignation

It is an awful thing to see oneself reflected in the attitude of the Pharisees (the text says "chief priests and scribes--what I will call Pharisees--forgive my liberty if they are not technically that set of priests with that name).  Over the years I have thought more than once that I identified with those men at several levels.  In a positive light, they were trying to obey God, they wanted to do everything right, they were striving to follow all of the rules and be accepted by the Lord.  Looking at it negatively, they were trying to elevate themselves over others with that perceived righteousness, their very nature and attitude bred pride, and they were sorely lacking in grace and mercy.  On my worst days, in my worst self, without Jesus, that is who I am as well.

I was reading in Matthew 21 this morning, about Jesus' entry into Jerusalem right before his crucifixion.  He is in the temple healing people--restoring health and wholeness, performing miracle after miracle of physical restoration.  Imagine what the healed and their families must have felt:  Relief, euphoria, joy, happiness, disbelief. . . Imagine what it might feel like to, for the first time, walk independently (or at all),  hear a loved one's voice,  see your child's face, be free from pain.  Participating in such celebration would be overwhelmingly joyful and happy and good.  Unless you were a Pharisee:   

And the blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he healed them.  But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” they were indignant,  and they said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” And Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read, “‘Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies  you have prepared praise’?” (Matthew 21: 14-16)

 C'mon.  They are in the middle of people being made whole and they are indignant?  Why?  Probably for a lot of reasons.  Maybe they were really upset that the children were calling Jesus the Son of David (the Messiah) when they weren't sure He actually was.  However, Jesus was fulfilling signs that the priests should have recognized (Isaiah 35:5-6, Isaiah 42:7).   Most of them, I bet, though, were upset for much less noble reasons.  Jesus was disturbing the order of the temple.  He was daring to put himself forward and mess up the order and flow of temple business.  He was stealing their limelight.  He wasn't playing by the rules and following the protocol.  All they could see was that Jesus was not acting according to their plan.  So they reacted with indignation.

I'm not a stranger to indignation, which exhibits itself in this decade as attitude.  I get attitude when things are not going according to my plan, not happening in the way I envisioned, or are making me uncomfortable.  Would I miss the joy in a room of healing because I was that upset about my plan?  I hope not, but I might.  In a similar situation, after seeing Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners, the Pharisees (for sure the REAL Pharisees in this passage) criticize Jesus to His disciples, and Jesus responds by telling them that they need to learn what it means that He desires mercy and not sacrifice (Matthew 9:13).

I need to learn what that means.  I do not want to find myself in a room where Jesus is at work and have my prevailing emotion be indignation.  I want it to be awe, or joy, or gratitude.  Thank God for the gospel's power in my life, which transforms my Pharisee's heart into a merciful and grace-filled one.  I just wish it would happen a little bit faster.

One Little Word

I continue to think about how to understand faith and how to walk in it. The verse I'm still thinking about (trying to memorize) is Matthew 7:20:

He said to them, ". . . For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you."

When I was practicing and trying to get it word perfect, I kept changing the phrase "you will say to this mountain" to be "you could say" or "you can say". But my translation says "will". Hmm. So I looked up the verse in several translations, and in the ones that are the most word-for-word (English Standard Version, New American Standard Version, Revised Standard Version, New King James Version), the word is rendered as "will" or "shall".

What does that really mean? The idea of moving a mountain, according to the footnote in my Bible, is used to denote any very difficult or impossible task. If I truly have faith, is it inevitable that I will exercise it by applying it to something that seems impossible in my life? The verse says that if I have faith I WILL ask the mountain to move. What mountains are there in my life that I want the Lord to move--and right now I can only consider the mountains that I already know He wants to move (disbelief, fear, faithlessness). I'll save the more nebulous mountains (healings, miracles) for another day.

Can I, WILL I apply my mustard seed (the tiny, eensy, weensy grain) of faith to the mountains that seem impossible to move? Is it faith if I don't?

To Glorify God

The verse I'm thinking about today did not come from my regular reading, but from the Faithwalkers devotional for today, by Daniel Goering (Great Commission pastor in Germany). For the past few days, Daniel had been writing about how, since Jesus is no longer a physical presence on the earth, WE are the light of God in the world. Today, the verse he focused on was Matthew 5:16:

In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.

Daniel pointed out that if we live a life full of selfless good works, but don't communicate why we are doing them, or where our motivation and power come from, then we won't be glorifying God, but ourselves. Yikes. As I get ready to go on this trip to Ethiopia with Compassion International, people say to me "Wow, that's so good of you." I don't know how to respond to that, exactly, because the Bible says that any good thing in me is from Jesus, but how do I share that in a way that doesn't sound completely self-righteous?

In reading the Old Testament, God over and over again states that He will not share His glory with anyone. I don't want to inadvertently "steal" any little part of God's glory, and I do want to be faithful to communicate that it's God in me that motivates any service or good work.

I am definitely going to be thinking about how to do both parts of the verse--the good works and the glorifying of the Lord. It will also be my new memory verse. Any ideas on how to practically communicate in this situation?

Open Our Eyes

Nearing the end of the book of Matthew, Jesus is heading to Jerusalem for the Passover before His crucifixion. On the way, He meets two blind beggars (Matthew 20:30-34):

And behold, there were two blind men sitting by the roadside, and when they heard that Jesus was passing by, they cried out, "Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!" The crowd rebuked them, telling them to be silent, but they cried out all the more, "Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!" And stopping, Jesus called them and said, "What do you want me to do for you?" They said to him, "Lord, let our eyes be opened." And Jesus in pity touched their eyes, and immediately they recovered their sight and followed him.

I've always liked this account because I like how the beggars cry out "all the more" after the crowd rebuked them. I've always envied their persistence and their faith that, if Jesus would just hear them, He would heal them.

Today I noticed the sequence of events: The beggars called out to the Lord, asking for their eyes to be opened. Jesus touched their eyes, they recovered their sight, and they followed Him.

It's a lot like the sequence of salvation: We cry out to God for Him to show us Himself. He opens our eyes and hearts to see and believe who He is, and our response should be to follow Him.

Extending the analogy further, even as we are following Christ, there are times when our eyes are shut (or we think they are) and we can't see the next step, or can't understand what God is doing in our life. I think we need to be like the beggars, calling out to the Lord to have mercy on us and to open our eyes to what He is doing. It may not (probably won't) happen right away--who knows how long the beggars had sat by that side of the road, waiting for the Messiah, but Jesus will, in His time, come and open our eyes.

The analogy breaks down a bit in the fact that we need to follow Jesus sometimes even when we can't see where we are going. We need to have faith in who He has already shown Himself to be to us and keep walking, trusting that He will open our eyes to what He wants us to see when the time is right.

Would that I would to be as persistent and shameless as those beggars in seeking the healing of Jesus.

Just Go Away

Here in sunny Houston, reading in Matthew 14 about Jesus feeding the five thousand. I have read this story probably 400 times in my life, and yet, once again, there is a "new" verse included in the narrative. Jesus had gone away to be alone, but the crowds followed Him. He has pity on them and spends the day healing them, but evening is coming. The disciples reason that it's getting late and there's no 7-11 around the corner to grab some nachos, so they decide that Jesus needs to tell the crowd to go home. After all, no one invited them to this place, so they are under no obligation to take care of the people, right? The disciples tell Jesus to send the crowds away. Jesus says, in verse 16:

"They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat."

Um. . . what? Why do we have to give them something to eat? Not my job. Not my problem. These thoughts would be going through my head (and probably coming out my mouth). There are times when people come to my church family and they have needs. Like the disciples, I can look and think "Not my job." That attitude is not a Christlike one and obviously not the way Jesus wants me to view other people.

Then comes the simple idea that "I can't." I can't feed 5000 people. Myself and all the rest of the disciples can't feed 5000 people. Just what are you asking, Jesus? My home group is reading Max Lucado's book "Fearless", and he also talks about this story, reminding us that the disciples didn't have just five loaves and two fish. They had five loaves, two fish, and JESUS.

I have been thinking about that a lot since I read it. So often I look at the needy people around me and, sometimes, in my darkest heart and worst day, wish they would just go away. I feel inadequate to meet their needs and like I won't be able to do it. I have forgotten that it is Jesus that is telling me that they don't need to go away; I need to give them something to eat (not because I necessarily want to, but because He has compassion on them). I have forgotten that I don't have to conjure up food, only to use what I have been given and bring it to Jesus.

It's in There

One of the things that I like about reading the Bible is when God reveals both the depth of His Word and the depth of my pride by showing me a verse that I would swear to you was not in that chapter the last time I read it. As if I could remember every verse in the book!

Today's surprise was in Matthew 13:51-52, when Jesus is speaking to the disciples after explaining several parables to them:

"Have you understood all these things?" They said to him, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."

Never have I noticed the last part of the verse, about bringing out "what is new and what is old", which the notes in my Bible explain as understanding how the new teachings of Jesus fit with the Old Testament teachings. As judging from my last post, I would be grateful for the ability to synthesize the Old Testament with the New Testament. What did the disciples to do earn the compliment? They came and asked Jesus to explain the parables to them. . . Ah. . .

He Can Deal

Reading in Matthew 8:1-3 today, about Jesus healing a man with leprosy:

When he came down from the mountain,great crowds followed him. And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, if you will, you can make me clean." And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, "I will; be clean." And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.

The footnotes in my Bible (the ESV Study Bible--lots of good info/background) pointed out that Jesus touched the leper to heal him, and touched him without becoming unclean. It's easy for us to miss that point today, but there were scads of laws about people with skin diseases, and people with leprosy were not allowed to touch anyone, not even their family. Jesus did what no one else could do--touch uncleanness and make it pure.

Most of us have never met or seen anyone with leprosy. However, most of us do deal with our own brand of uncleanness, especially in the area of relationships. Lots of us struggle with being needy, clingy, jealous, guarded, controlling, or naive; all symptoms of our sin which frequently damage our relationships. Jesus is the only one who can deal with those "diseases" without becoming unclean--without being hurt, without hurting back, and without rejecting us. If we bring those feelings to Him, He can handle them without it hurting our relationship. He wants us to come to Him with those areas of our life, like the leper came, and ask for healing.

Realistically, our healing usually doesn't come as instantaneously as the leper's did--one of the results of living in between salvation and Jesus' return. But, little by little, God will help us change and help our relationships to become cleaner and cleaner.