My husband and I own a small retail business. Last winter, we were victimized by shoplifters. They stole several items, worth over $1,000. The same couple stole items from other businesses in the area. The police investigated, compared descriptions of the suspects, traced their movements, and got an arrest warrant. The couple fled, and it took months to find them and bring them into custody. They have been arrested, and we have been to court for a preliminary hearing, with another potential court date in about a month.
The court sent us a long series of papers to fill out, including a victim impact statement, where we were to describe how the suspect’s alleged actions impacted us personally, as well as how our business was damaged. Even though this was not a personal crime (we weren’t physically threatened or harmed, or specifically targeted with an intent to ruin our business), there are still scars–distrust, fear, frustration, and loss, to name a few. Just because a crime isn’t personal, doesn’t mean that no one suffers. It has been an awkward process to write out the victim statement, and to appear in court and recount all that happened that day, but it has also been a good process.
Being a victim is not a pleasant experience. It is frightening, humiliating, maddening, and bewildering. “How could this have happened?” “Why did it happen to me/us?” “What did I/we do wrong?” These are honest questions that go unanswered. But the biggest question may be “Where was God when this happened?” Didn’t he know? Didn’t he care? Why didn’t he act to stop this crime? Why did he allow it to touch us?
In the months since this happened, I’ve learned to ask some other questions of God–
What other “bad” things have you kept from us without our knowledge? What good things have you showered on us that we took for granted?
Who else has suffered the same or worse things– how can I reach out with empathy or understanding?
Where are people suffering without justice? Even though we have had a long wait, we know that the police and court system have been working for us. Where are people living who suffer without hope, in silence, and in fear of seeking help?
What can we learn from this experience? How can we make our store and our community “safer”? How can we heal, and bring justice instead of wallowing in hurt or seeking revenge?
God has a plan, even in times of trial and questioning. We all will be victims at some point in our life–of injustice, of crime, of disease, of poverty, of losses, of disaster, and of sin’s consequences– our own sins and the sins of others. We can also be victors, through the power of the Holy Spirit. We can overcome bitterness and addiction; we can triumph through cancer, depression, or heartbreak; we can rise above setbacks and circumstances; we can choose forgiveness and healing over hatred and self-sabotage. We can move from being perpetual victims to eternal victors, through Jesus Christ our Lord!
I got to spend the day with my granddaughter earlier this week. She’s three, and has all the energy of a firecracker, and the curiosity of a kitten. She is learning to discern what things and which people are trustworthy (or not). Having worked with children from infants to teens over the years, I have seen this progression in others– sometimes with good results, and sometimes ending in disaster.
We hear about “childlike” faith–Jesus spoke of it; even praised it. Yet we see examples of people whose simple faith puts them in danger from predators, bullies, scam artists, and other perils. Is this really what Christ wants from us? No! Jesus didn’t commend foolishness; he told dozens of parables warning of foolishness and simple-mindedness. The Apostle Paul also talks of “babies” in the faith needing to grow wiser and stronger. There is a difference between having the faith of a child, and having the brain of a child. Jesus doesn’t want us to be ignorant, gullible, or bratty, but He loved the willingness of children to ask questions, seek out answers, and listen with open minds and hearts.
Most people become cynical over the years– some far earlier than others. They trust no one and nothing but themselves, thinking they know best, or frightened to find out what they don’t know. In many ways, they are as vulnerable (or even more so) as those who trust everyone.
My granddaughter is still at the stage where she trusts her parents and grandparents to watch out for her, give her good advice, and answer all her many questions. As she learns new skills, she often “consults” with us; asking our approval, wanting our input–as she meets new people, she will also take many of her cues from us. Should she be polite, informal, respectful, quiet, reserved, loud, assertive? She is still learning, but she still trusts us more than, say, her brothers or peers. There will come a time when she will develop the habit of either following the examples we have set for manners, traditions, habits, and such, or looking to other models.
Watching her, I was reminded of two very important questions I need to ask myself?
What does she see and hear from me? Am I trustworthy in the way I talk to (and about!) others? About her? Am I giving her solid advice and good examples that will help her develop good habits and relationships? Am I “present”– not being distracted or half-hearted in responding to her needs? Am I teaching her wisdom about the dangers she must face in this world? Or do I pretend they don’t exist or won’t touch her?
Who am I trusting? The obvious “right” answer is Jesus Christ, but is that the reality? Do I lean on my own understanding, or consult with “experts” without asking for God’s wisdom or seeking His approval? Am I seeking to learn from Him how to navigate the dangers of this world, or pretending they won’t touch me?
Having childlike faith is not the same as having a childish faith; it’s not the same as being foolish or ignoring facts. Smart children ask questions– lots of them! But they listen to the answers. Foolish children (and foolish adults) claim to know all the answers, and refuse to listen to advice.
I’m getting a double whammy this week–two Bible study groups; one studying Daniel and the other Job. Some of you will groan just reading the first sentence. Along with the book of Revelations, these are two of the most difficult and misunderstood books in the Bible. And for good reason. The book of Daniel doesn’t just contain the favorite stories of Daniel in the Lions’ Den and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, it also contains prophetic visions that seem to foreshadow two distinct sets of events– one set that happened in the time between Daniel’s life and the birth of Christ, and another set of events yet to come.
The book of Job is puzzling– there are no good clues as to when it took place, or exactly where, or even if it is real or a parable. There is a curious interchange between God and Satan that is unlike any other passage in scripture. Finally, it is filled with difficult dialogues from Job and his friends, as they try to make sense of his suffering as God stays silent. When God finally speaks, He doesn’t directly answer Job’s questions or his friends’ misleading statements.
What happens when I don’t understand what God is doing (or seemingly NOT doing) in my life or the lives of others? What happens when the world doesn’t make sense, and the Bible doesn’t seem to shed any light? What happens when I pray, but God seems silent?
I think the answer has a lot to do with where I am in my relationship with Christ:
I can panic, lose faith, or become angry and insolent. If I don’t know God or don’t trust him; if I doubt his goodness or wisdom or power, I may run from his word and his presence.
I can lean on my own understanding. I can substitute my own limited wisdom for God’s, and try to “explain away” all the things I don’t quite understand. I may ignore the Bible passages I don’t understand, in favor of doubling down on the ones I think I know. I can insist on my own interpretations of difficult or disturbing passages, even if someone points out inconsistencies in my logic, or context clues that disagree with my view.
I can lean on someone else’s understanding, listening to their views without question or without reading and praying through it myself. If someone else has an answer, shouldn’t that be enough? Even if I still don’t fully understand, at least I have an answer…
I can ignore the question–after all, do I really need to know about God? Isn’t it enough that He exists and He is good? If I say it loud enough and often enough, won’t that make the questions go away?
It seems that there is a better way– God never promises us easy answers or complete answers to all the questions in this life. We can be angry or grateful for that truth, but most of all we must accept it. God will answer many of our questions–maybe not in the time and manner we expect. And some of them we won’t understand this side of heaven. But the Bible is clear in calling us to pursue answers, and be honest when we don’t understand. God may not give us a simple answer, but He promises to give us wisdom– wisdom to seek, and wisdom to wait; wisdom to trust, and wisdom to keep knocking.
Ask, Seek, Knock, Wrestle, Search, Pray, Plead, Study, and Learn.
I’m revisiting Jonah today. The book of Jonah is a fascinating study–it’s just four short chapters, but they are packed with messages that inspire, convict, and encourage. More about Jonah here…
At the beginning of the book, Jonah is sent by God to preach disaster to a city steeped in evil and violence. Nineveh was an ancient metropolis of the Assyrian empire, located near modern-day Mosul, Iraq. The people of Nineveh had been responsible for attacks against Israel, and it is believed that Jonah may have lost family members in these attacks. Now God is sending him into the “belly of the beast” to preach judgment and doom. Instead of following God’s command, Jonah tries to run away and gets swallowed by a big fish.
This is the part of the story with which most people are familiar– Jonah and the “Whale”. But this covers only the first quarter of the story! Inside the fish, Jonah prays. It is a beautiful prayer of praise and acknowledgement of God’s might and power to save. This is not the sniveling coward of chapter one, but the great prophet he could have, should have been. God gives him another chance and this time, Jonah is faithful to preach the message God sends– forty more days and He will wipe out Nineveh.
But something unexpected happens. The people of Nineveh hear Jonah’s dire warning– a lone voice calling in the streets with a gloomy message– and they repent. From the least to the greatest, they cry out for mercy, they fast and mourn and do a complete about-face. Just as God saved Jonah from the fish, He relents and saves Nineveh from destruction. Jonah’s enemies get to live to see a new day!
The Ninevites repented, God relented, and Jonah resented. The last chapter tells of Jonah’s temper tantrum in the light of God’s mercy. God even sends him an object lesson in the form of a gourd vine. The book of Jonah ends abruptly with God’s last statement. We never read Jonah’s response; we never find out if he learned his lesson a second time or not.
Even with its abrupt end, the book of Jonah teaches about three important responses:
The people of Nineveh repented. When faced with judgment, they humbled themselves and called for mercy. They received it. In spite of their former violence, idolatry, and wickedness, God sent them a warning, and He extended the grace and mercy they did not deserve.
Two words of warning here:
1) Their response was immediate, sincere, and dramatic. That makes for an exciting story, but repentance sometimes comes over time and quietly. God knows if our repentance is real. It is not our place to judge someone else’s conversion or apology.
2) In the case of Nineveh, their repentance was short-lived. God eventually destroyed the city and the Assyrian empire. Just because we have a moment of sincere regret or keenly feel a need for mercy doesn’t mean that God has an obligation to extend mercy or to withhold judgment indefinitely. Grace is a gift, not a negotiation!
God relented. God listens, ready to extend His grace. He does not punish us as we deserve. He does not mete out immediate judgment without hope of redemption. God sent Jonah with a message of potential doom to Israel’s sworn enemy in the knowledge that they (EVEN THEY) would repent. God sent dozens of prophets to the nation of Israel warning of doom and exile, and they mocked and even killed the messengers! God is patient, loving, and kind. But He is also just– evil will not be forgotten or left unpunished. God will relent, but He won’t retreat, back down, or surrender.
Jonah resented. We don’t know if he stayed resentful, or rediscovered gratitude for God’s grace to Nineveh or to himself, but we are left with a picture that Jesus echoes in the story of the prodigal son. Jonah is like the older brother who worries more about his brother’s misdeeds than his brother’s soul. How many of us who have experienced grace sulk and pout when we see others enjoying their first delightful taste of it? Do we stamp our feet at God when he sends us to bring the Gospel to people we have written off as uninterested in or unworthy of it? Do we resent being corrected and humbled by a loving God? Do we worry and fret over our creature comforts as Jonah worried over his gourd vine, while others live without hope, food, or shelter?
Three words, so similar in spelling and sound, but so very different in impact!
Lord, I pray that my repentance would always be immediate and sincere; that I would see others, and their need for your grace, through your eyes of compassion; and that I would not resent your goodness and patience toward others. Thank you for your patience and mercy toward me, and may I give the same to those who need to see Your face. Give me the wisdom to trust you and obey, even when my flesh would run away. May I see the gourd vines and big fish in my life as your gifts.
Seventeen years ago today, I was, like many people around the world, glued to a TV watching with horror as the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City were spewing fire, ash, paper, and even bodies before collapsing. I sat in shock as I watched footage of the second plane smashing into the south tower. People running away as rescue vehicles rushed toward the panic. And as the towers fell, the smoke rose, filled with the last breaths of those trapped inside, along with the collective breaths of their families, friends, and the world. A silent gray gasp– a frozen moment of silence in the midst of sirens and screams. Time stopped at least twice that day. Motions and emotions were suspended in those columns of smoke– love and memory, hopes and dreams– all drifted silently away from the open wound that was lower Manhattan.
And then, amazing things started to happen. Stories of heroism and miraculous rescues. The initial estimates of people killed ranged in the tens of thousands–all morning, they climbed higher– by Wednesday, they began to fall as more people were located. Others were rescued from the debris as thousands of workers poured in to help. Caravans and convoys of supplies– food, water, medical supplies, rescue workers and excavators– rolled, sailed, walked, or were ferried in. In the first years, more stories emerged. As horrific and tragic as the events of 9/11 were, they could have been even worse. The initial panic morphed into resolve. People who wouldn’t have spoken to their neighbors now worked side by side in shelters and clean-up efforts. People who shouldn’t have lived through it did, while others who shouldn’t have cared willingly shared their time, their resources, their skills, their homes, and even their lives to help others.
Ironically, the buildings were designed to withstand a hurricane. Today, the east coast of the U.S., including potentially New York City, is preparing for the arrival of a hurricane. The buildings of the World Trade Center were built with the hope that they would be strong enough to survive high winds and floods; able to provide emergency shelter and protection to thousands in the event of a natural disaster. They were leveled by an unnatural force of evil and hatred meant to destroy life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
There are no man-made towers that can protect against the force of evil in our world– mighty winds of change, forces of nature, powerful attacks, acts of war, and collapse can occur without warning. There is only one strong tower that can withstand the deadly forces of sin and hate and despair. God stands firm and unshakable, offering to save all who come within His embrace. He may not bring us through without wounds; He may even allow us to go through the valley of the shadow of death. He doesn’t promise perfect weather or days without struggles. He won’t remove us from the storm, but He invites us to take our shelter in Him. He won’t make you take shelter; he won’t make you evacuate your house built on the sand. He may calm the storm or stop the winds and waves. He may ask us to weather them in their full force. We may even lose this mortal life, but He will keep the soul that is stayed on Him. And He won’t leave us to face the storm alone.
Today, I pray for those who are remembering that horrible day in 2001, and those who are facing an uncertain 9/11 today. May each one feel God’s strength, shelter, and comfort in the midst of this life’s storms.
The air is different.
Cooler
Scented with readiness…
Waiting
The birds are restless of wing;
Apples hang heavy
As people and days
Move a little faster.
Anticipating the season;
Bringing in the harvest
Preparing to face
The cold gray of winter.
This short burst of color–
This cacophony of bird chatter
And swinging scythes–
Will give way to moaning winds
And skeletal branches reaching out
To empty skies.
Autumn is coming– you can feel it in the air and start to see it on the trees here. It’s coming on to “sweater” weather. Football, the smell of vineyards heavy with grapes and orchards filled with apples and pears. Gardeners and farmers are tripping over pumpkins and squash, and preparing to bring in the corn, wheat, and beans. Squirrels are starting to zip about and look for nuts and seeds to store.
There is a sense of urgency about this time of year– the harvest is ready to bring in; it will not wait for a more convenient moment. Preparations for the coming winter must be completed while the good weather holds.
There is also a sense of completion and evaluation. We look back at the summer with longing–did we make the most of sunny days and delayed sunsets? Did we bring in a bumper crop? And we look forward with a little anxiety– are we ready to weather the biting winds and bleak days ahead?
God has given us seasons– where I live, there are dramatic changes from summer to autumn– in other regions, there are changes from rainy season to dry season. Each change gives us time to pause and notice where we have been and where we are headed.
The same is true in our personal lives– we go through seasons of change. Children grow to adulthood; young parents become empty-nesters (eventually); hectic days at the office give way to days at the doctor’s office; bank accounts and circles of friends grow or shrink.
We’ve had a lot of rain lately– torrential bursts that turn our street into a river for a few minutes, before running into the sewer drains. In that time, many small objects come floating by our apartment– fallen leaves, pebbles, cigarette butts, discarded plastic spoons, candy wrappers, etc. The swift waters propel them from wherever they had been– someone’s drive, the alley, the parking lot–past houses and stores and toward the drains. Some of them end up clogging a drain, forming a small pile of trash where there was none before.
The opposite scenario is happening along several coastal areas, where debris is washing up from the ocean and landing on beaches, clogging up deltas and salt marches and having a terrible impact on the environment.
Flotsam and jetsam–the terms come up occasionally in literature or movies. There are characters in Disney’s “The Little Mermaid” with those names. There is a chapter in Tolkein’s “Lord of the Rings” Trilogy (the ninth chapter of the first book of The Two Towers, for purists) titled “Flotsam and Jetsam”. There is even a band by that name. They are almost always used in tandem, and most people use them interchangeably.
But there is a difference. Flotsam is considered debris that ends up in the water by accident, as in the case of a shipwreck. Jetsam is something deliberately thrown overboard or “jettisoned”. Legally, flotsam can be reclaimed by its original owner, while jetsam can by claimed by anyone who finds it. more about flotsam and jetsam from NOAA.
Most of what I’ve seen floating by this week is neither flotsam nor jetsam– it’s merely garbage. And that is what is causing so many problems along the coastlines, as well. Our lands and oceans (and our lives, too) can easily get overrun by waste and packaging and excess. We fill our lives with things that do not have any good purpose, and even if we dispose of them, they can come back to haunt us or hurt others down the road (or on another coast).
Today, I want to pray that God would continue to teach me to find my satisfaction in Him, and to watch out for spiritual flotsam and jetsam:
Flotsam– those things, people, habits, beliefs, promises, warnings, etc. that get washed overboard or lost along the way. May God reclaim relationships, help me relearn good habits, and restore joy in my salvation (Psalm 51:12)
Jetsam– those things I need to jettison–bad relationships, bad habits, faulty thinking, pride, clutter, etc. In His power, and with His help, I need to cast such things aside, or better yet, put them to death and bury them, never again to be reclaimed.
17 As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.
I’m not really sure why this single verse, this single idea, has been rattling around in my mind lately, but I’ve taken a week off from doing the blog, trying to regroup and refocus, and yet this is the phrase that keeps coming back. So here’s what I’ve been thinking:
Iron –God uses a lot of imagery, analogy, parable, and metaphor throughout the Bible. What does this image suggest? Iron is hard. Iron is used for tools and (in Bible times) weapons. Iron is strong. Iron is forged in the fire. Iron being sharpened can bring out sparks. Iron crafted by a master blacksmith can be forged, shaped, smoothed, hardened, and, yes, sharpened.
God calls us to be useful– light, salt, vessels, iron, hands–we have purpose; we have work to do during our time on earth. Sometimes, that work calls for us to be steadfast, immovable– like iron. But iron that is not being used can become brittle, or rusty, and lose its edge.
“Iron sharpens iron“– We don’t always use iron to sharpen iron– sometimes we use honing stones or grinding wheels or even strops. But we don’t use cheese to sharpen iron– it won’t work. We don’t sharpen it with paper or “positive energy” or a block of wood. How are we staying “sharp”? Do I make an effort to sharpen my skills, my knowledge, my service, my body, mind, and spirit? Am I using the right method and materials to stay sharp?
Who or what do I turn to when I want sharpening? Do I have friends who keep me accountable (and vice versa)? Do I even WANT to stay sharpened and ready for service? Or do I serve without guarding my edge until it becomes dull and useless?
Iron sharpens iron– but not always. Sometimes iron blunts iron. Sometimes it cuts away at it. Sharpening is not accomplished by just banging pieces of iron together randomly. There are circumstances, habits, people, or activities that try to chip away at my surface, that try to crush or bend or destroy. There are others that are not made of iron; they cannot help me stay strong and sharp. I need to be deliberate and careful about what and who I include in the sharpening process. I also need to be as deliberate and as careful about who I “sharpen”. We are here to live, and work, and build relationships together. But I need to learn when and how to “sharpen” others in my life. Otherwise, I can cause great damage to others and to my own soul.
What can I do to keep sharpened and help others stay sharp?
Pray. I don’t have answers, I don’t have the power to stay sharp on my own. But God is the one who can give us wisdom, power, and send us all we need (2 Peter 1:3) Also, seek out a prayer partner or prayer group.
Get involved in Bible Study– seek out a Bible Study group or an on-line resource where you can ask questions, have meaningful discussions, and share insights.
Seek out “iron” friends– friends who will hold you accountable, who will offer support, but also share their own struggles. We all have friends who fill one or the other of these roles, but seek out friends who are not merely takers or givers, but true brothers and sisters in the faith.
Don’t run away from challenges, “tough” questions, and earnest discussions–that doesn’t mean that we need to get pulled into senseless arguments, either; but we are disciples— that’s the same root word as discipline! We need to come out of our comfortable corners and exercise our faith.
22 And they came to Beth-sa′ida. And some people brought to him a blind man, and begged him to touch him. 23 And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the village; and when he had spit on his eyes and laid his hands upon him, he asked him, “Do you see anything?” 24 And he looked up and said, “I see men; but they look like trees, walking.” 25 Then again he laid his hands upon his eyes; and he looked intently and was restored, and saw everything clearly. 26 And he sent him away to his home, saying, “Do not even enter the village.”
Have you ever wondered why certain stories and events are recorded in the Bible while others are not? Scholars and theologians have been trying to make sense of this story for centuries. Why did Jesus spit on the man’s eyes? Why did He do the healing in two stages, when He had the power to heal the man instantly? Why did He grab the man’s hand and lead him out of town? Why did He tell the man not to enter the village on his way home? We are left with dozens of questions and no definitive answers.
This is not the only gospel story (or Biblical story for that matter) that raises questions and includes inexplicable elements. In fact, many people, wanting to discredit the Bible, point to stories like this as “proof” that the Bible is not “true”; there are too many unanswered questions, inconsistencies, gaps and omissions. Why is God silent for hundreds of years between the prophets and the gospels, or why do we have no account of Jesus’ teen years? Why are there stories of some of the Judges, and mere mentions of others? Why did some writings become “canon” and others became apocryphal or even heretical? For my part, I find such stories to be proof that the Bible IS inspired by God– Truth really is often stranger than fiction!
I don’t intend to try to answer all the unanswered questions, but since I think that ALL scripture is inspired by God, I’d like to look at what this passage might have to say about prayer, sight, and walking with Christ.
First, this story comes about because, as Jesus is coming up to Bethsaida, he is approached by a group begging him to heal their blind friend. Jesus responds by taking the blind man by the hand and leaving– taking him out of town and away from his friends. We aren’t told why, but I think even without explanation, there are two “takeaways” here:
The blind man was not asking for healing– for whatever reason, his friends were the ones asking for help on his behalf. We jump at the chance to pray for people who ask for help and prayer, but are we as eager to pray for those who do NOT? The passage says the friends brought the blind man to Jesus– it doesn’t say if the man came willingly, grudgingly, unknowingly, or eagerly. His friends brought him and begged for Jesus to touch/heal him. We should have the same passion for lifting up our friends, family, neighbors, bosses, community workers, leaders, and even enemies.
Jesus took the man out of town to heal him. Nowhere in the passage does it mention that his friends followed or saw the healing take place. The story includes them, and their actions, but it is not ABOUT them. Just because we beg God for a miracle, or ask Him to help us plant a seed or make a difference, doesn’t mean that we will get to see the result. Often, God will remove someone from our life just as they are on the verge of changes– even miracles– for which we have prayed. That doesn’t negate our need to keep praying, nor should it diminish our joy at the ultimate result.
Next, there is the curious circumstance of the two-phase healing. Jesus spits, touches the man’s eyes, and then asks, “Do you see anything?” It is a unique question from Jesus. Normally, in the healing process, Jesus doesn’t ask, he commands..“I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” (Mark 2:11 NIV); When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out! (John 11:43 NIV); He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum!” (which means “Little girl, I say to you, get up!”) (Mark 5:41 NIV). Just as curious is the answer from the man. Yes, he can see, but there is obviously a problem that needs to be addressed. In this instance, healing did not come instantly and completely.
My point here is not to speculate, or try to find answers as to why this story is so different. But once again, I see a couple of points to ponder:
Jesus often leads us to a place of questions instead of clear solutions, and it can be frustrating and uncomfortable. But he doesn’t leave us there, alone and with no remedy (even if it feels scary in the waiting!) Jesus did not torment the man with a hundred questions; he didn’t blame the man for not seeing clearly right away; and he didn’t leave him unable to see clearly. Instead, he asked the man a simple question, “Do you see anything?”
When I am in a season of questions, am I listening for and listening TO the questions or merely itching for an easy answer?
Jesus didn’t explain his question or justify his healing. He didn’t redirect or ask a hundred clarifying questions. He was more interested in the man’s response. The man could have answered, “Yes, I can see,” and walked away disappointed and half-healed. He could have answered in anger or bitterness or sarcasm and unbelief. “How could you do this to me?. What good is my sight if everything looks wrong?”
How do I answer when Jesus leads me to a place of questions? Am I honest with myself and with Him about what I see (or don’t see clearly)? Do I answer with the truth, or do I answer with impatience and distrust?
Lastly, we have a curious ending to story, though one more consistent with other healing events– Jesus restores the man’s sight so that he can see perfectly. Then he directs him NOT to enter the village when he returns home. Once again, I want to look at what I can learn and apply from this passage:
God wants to bring restoration and correction. He wants me to see clearly. He wants me to see others clearly; he wants me to see Him clearly. It isn’t just physical sight that is important to Him. He wants me to get insight as well. I don’t need to have all the answers to the many questions this passage brings up to get insight and wisdom from it, but I do need to see that there IS wisdom to be gained from studying even the odd passages He has chosen to give us in His Word.
God brings healing and insight, but He also gives us direction– in this case, the man was NOT to enter the village. Once again, we are not given a reason why. And we are not given any information as to the man’s response. Did he obey? It is a curious feature of many of Jesus’ healings that He commands people not to run off and tell others. On this point, since it happens often, I will speculate..I don’t believe that God wants us to stay silent about miracles and blessings, but I do believe that there are good reasons to pause and reflect before we spread the word:
So often, in our elation and wonder, we trumpet “our” miracles and blessings– as though we were singled out because of who we are or what we have done or how we prayed. We don’t do this on purpose; we’re normally not even aware of how it sounds to others…In time, the wonder sinks deeper, the humble awareness of God’s mercy and grace replaces the initial euphoria and self-congratulation. We bring more glory to God and less attention to ourselves. In my excitement when God sends me blessing, do I try to take some of the credit, or take pride in His gifts?
Related to this is the temptation to forget that others around us are still in pain or darkness. God’s power to heal is absolute, but He doesn’t choose to remove all pain, nor does he prevent us from experiencing suffering and tragedy. We NEED to share stories of His power, mercy, grace, and joy, but we need to do so with loving insight into the hearts and lives of others, remembering to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15) Do I spend equal time listening to others, praying for them and sharing their burdens?
The commands of Jesus are not arbitrary or capricious. We may not understand why, but we should trust that they are for our good and God’s glory. We don’t know what might have awaited the man in Bethsaida. What we do know is that Bethsaida was singled out (along with Chorazin) as a village of unbelief and stubborn refusal to accept miracles. When God closes a door of opportunity in my life, do I keep trying to break in? Or do I take the next step in faith?
So I ask myself today– “Do I see anything?” “Do I see clearly?” and “Am I obeying Christ’s direction for the next step?”
In “Pursuing Prayer”, I want to explore ways to develop my prayers; to become “better” at praying– more confident, more Christlike. But along the way, I have found that “better” doesn’t always mean what I think it ought to mean. Sometimes, becoming “better” requires becoming broken.
I don’t like being broken. I don’t want to be shattered, ruined, like a broken vase. I don’t want to pray like a broken record– sending up the same failures, the same weaknesses, the same painful memories. I don’t want to be pinched, and cracked, and mangled. I don’t want to be stretched and molded and squeezed. I want to have comforting chats with God, not drawn-out confessions, or rebukes, or unanswered questions.
It is tempting to avoid brokenness–cover it up, pretend, deny, ignore its existence. I don’t want to bring God my questions, my fears, my hurts. I don’t want to open up the dark places of my soul. I want to wear a smile and make small talk with God–“How are you today?” “Just lovely, Father, and how are you?” “Fine weather we’re having.” “Yes, thank you for the breezes yesterday. And could I just put in a plug for my neighbor’s gall bladder surgery? I told her I would pray for her, so could you just give her a speedy healing? That’d be great. Well, gotta run. Talk to you soon…Oh, and I’m sorry for the way I blew up at the kids the other day. I don’t know WHAT got into me. You know I’m just not that way, right? So I’m just asking for grace to kinda cover that up and make it ok again. Thanks.”
God is not fooled. God is not impressed or amused at our shallow righteousness. He’s not impressed or overcome by our brokenness, either. But He wants it, anyway. He wants all of it. Because He wants to build honesty, intimacy, and most of all, restoration. God doesn’t want us to wallow in our failures, any more than He wants us to gloat in our false perfection. He wants to break the bondage they have over us. He doesn’t get tired of hearing our voices, even in guilt or shame, rage or despair…if they are raised to Him. He doesn’t want us to stay shattered and ruined. But He needs us to be redirected, refreshed, rebuilt, rekindled, and renewed.
There are many things that need to be “broken” to become better– we “break” in shoes, we “break” ground to create a new field or prepare for a new building. We “break bread” to eat it and share it with others. We “break” horses in order to prepare them to run or work more effectively. We “break” bad habits. We even “break” the ice in a new friendship. The point is not to stay broken, but to “break through” whatever is keeping us oppressed and held down.
When I am feeling broken, and I cry out to God, He doesn’t deny my brokenness; He doesn’t turn away in disgust; He doesn’t stick a hasty bandage on my wounds. God acknowledges my pain, He listens to my questions. He loves me enough to come and stay with me through the worst moments–even when others have gone; even when I deny His presence and turn my face to the wall–and He begins the process of turning even those scars and cracks and tears into treasures.
Brokenness is inevitable in our fallen and broken world– God is not out to break us; people and time, circumstances, and even our own good intentions will cause us to fall and fail–am I willing to uncover my brokenness and need, and allow God to reshape my shattered dreams?
Pursuing Prayer 