Every year, we celebrate the birth of Emmanuel– God With Us. It is amazing to consider the Love of God that brought Him from His Heavenly throne to a lowly manger stall, the King of Glory contained in the tiny body of a sleepy infant.
But we should be careful not to miss the rest of the story. As wonderful as it is to think that God would love His creation enough to visit among us, to “taste” life as a human, the story gets gloriously magnified as Jesus leaves the manger to enter a ministry. Jesus didn’t just live among us, He healed, taught, laughed, formed friendships, and served among people– many of whom scoffed, scorned, and rejected Him and His message.
And His message was this: God wants– in fact He passionately yearns– to restore the relationship WE have broken. Jesus didn’t come to “taste” human life– He came to GIVE His life as a sacrifice for those who didn’t deserve it, to extend forgiveness to those who had no right to ask for it. The Holy and Perfect God became the guilt and shame of Sin, so that we could be reconciled to Him. He accepted the penalty of Death, so that we could be given eternal life.
This miracle of reconciliation can be difficult to understand. I sometimes get “stuck” in the weight of my past–I know that Christ offers forgiveness, but I sometimes act as though the penalty hasn’t been removed; only suspended. But that’s not what Jesus taught. Like a leper cured of leprosy, I am clean–no scars, no stains, no relapse–all traces of my disease removed. In this world, I will still feel the sting of the consequences of Sin– betrayal, sickness, injustice, even death. But death is no longer my destiny; it is a temporary rest stop on my way HOME.
Jesus didn’t come to “taste” human life; He came to “taste” death– and He came to destroy its power, so that we could know true Life, and live it to the fullest!
Jesus was born in obscurity– yet he was also born during a Census year…
And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. 3 So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city. 4 Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. 6 So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. 7 And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
This is a Census year in the U.S. (something that has largely been forgotten in the wake of the COVID pandemic.) I actually worked for the Census Bureau for a few weeks this year, doing follow-up interviews for addresses which had not responded for various reasons. Census taking is much different now than it was in Jesus’ day. I had a script, and a smart phone, and several different forms to fill out or hand out to explain what we were doing–one form contained information in at least 14 different languages, and all of them had phone numbers and web addresses where people could “respond” electronically without ever leaving the comfort of their living room, let alone traveling over dangerous hills and trying to find room at crowded inns. I was the one who had to travel– mostly around my small town and within a 20-mile radius. One interview required me to travel 100 miles; another required me to utilize my ability to speak and understand Spanish. Otherwise, the interviews were simple and straightforward. Except when they weren’t.
“Everyone Counts,” the Census Bureau told us, and I did my best to get names and ages for everyone at every address I visited. But many of the addresses were abandoned buildings– even demolished. Others were summer homes or vacation rentals–I had to be careful not to count the same people twice! Often, I could tell that people were living at the residence, but either they weren’t home at that time or they would not come to the door. Some houses required several attempts before I got any response, and it wasn’t always positive or cooperative.
I imagine the scene in Bethlehem, though lacking the technology and ease of travel of our modern age, wasn’t so very different. There were people who wanted to do their civic duty; those who were annoyed at the inconvenience and general bureaucratic chaos; those who hated the Roman Government and everything it represented; and some who just wanted to get it all over with and go back to “normal life.”
We know that Joseph was called up to go to Bethlehem because is was his ancestral home. And we know that Joseph would have been counted as the head of the household. But is it possible that Jesus was counted in that census? That he was numbered among his people and with his family? That the God of all creation became a simple hash mark among thousands of others that year? “Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth.” “Infant son.” “Male child.” Jesus was counted. But He was also lost in the shuffle; discounted and ignored.
10 He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. 11 He came unto his own, and his own received him not.
John 1:10-11 (KJV via biblegateway.com)
This season, it’s easy to feel left out, discounted, passed over. This year, especially, it can be lonely and discouraging as we look out on the world from lockdown, or look at faces covered by masks, unknown or unrecognizable. It’s easy to feel that no one sees us. Rest assured, Jesus knows what it is like to get lost in the numbers. He knows what it is to be discounted and misunderstood, rejected, and scorned.
And He knows exactly who you are and who I am– better than we know ourselves! We count! Not because of who we are, but because He is the creator and author of all life. No matter where you are, no matter who has rejected you in the past, no matter how dark and grim things look– God sees you; God loves you; God has taken you into His count. He doesn’t need a census count to find you, and you can’t get “lost” or hide in the crowd.
It is one of the most popular Christmas Carols– we sing it every year: “Silent Night, Holy Night; All is calm, all is bright; ‘Round yon virgin mother and child– Holy infant, so tender and mild; Sleep in Heavenly Peace– Sleep in Heavenly Peace.”
Each year, we celebrate the coming of Christ– “Son of God; Love’s Pure Light.” God coming to earth to live among His creation– Emmanuel, God with us. And it becomes familiar, and gets mixed in with stories of Santa Claus and gift-giving, decorated trees and flying reindeer.
But stop a minute to reconsider the amazing juxtaposition–the very Word of creation became a speechless baby. The ruler of galaxies came to earth naked and needy, hungry and helpless. Holy Infant–fully God and fully human in His frailty.
God could have come as a ruler of might; He could have stepped out of Heaven in a blinding flash of light, spoken with a voice of thunder, and made the mountains tremble. He could have filled the skies and scattered all the stars and clouds. He could have come in all His Majesty– and someday, that’s how He will return.
But on that Silent, Holy Night, He came in humility. He came in Heavenly Peace.
What an awesome enigma–the One who would break the power of death came in the weakness of an ordinary birth. The Giver of Life choosing to reside in the womb of an ordinary young woman, gasping for air as He took His first breath as a human. The omniscient one having to learn to sit up, and eat, to speak and to hold His mother’s hand; to stand up and walk.
God SO LOVED us that He went to extravagant lengths to meet us in our humanness. He didn’t need to become human for His sake– He did it for us; that WE could know Him more intimately; so that when we talk to Him, we are talking to one who has known hunger, and pain, and heartbreak, and loss– as one of us.
It is terrifyingly easy to miss the significance of the incarnation after the fact. As we remember the Advent season, let us reflect on the world before that Holy birth.. a world so fallen that no one could imagine the face of God; no one could imagine walking with Him or sharing a meal or a smile with Him; no one had ever felt His touch on their cheek or heard Him laugh. No one could have imagined that God would bleed, or cry out in agony, or taste death. But He came. He lived and walked among us. He died. And He paid the penalty for your sins and mine, so that we can share life with Him– eternally.
Sin isn’t a popular topic of conversation. Most of us would rather talk of victorious living; of accomplishments, righteous thoughts, life choices that “worked out” to our benefit. If we must talk of wrongs, we prefer to speak of “shortcomings,” or circumstances “forcing” us to make bad choices. We point fingers at those who could have/should have helped us, or warned us, or given us better guidance. We may even acknowledge shame or guilt for choices we’ve made, and speak of atonement, or lessons learned.
But God has provided for forgiveness–not a denial of our guilt; not a “free pass” for our actions–something beyond our capacity to give or “earn.” God alone is capable of perfect judgment. He never makes excuses; nor does he accept them. He knows every detail of every choice you’ve ever made–the motivations, the circumstances, the alternatives–and He has the power to pronounce eternal judgment AND eternal forgiveness.
We have a tendency to give partial forgiveness, because we do not have God’s perfect knowledge or judgment. We get trapped in a cycle of guilt and shame, or blame and bitterness, because we want to see a perfect justice that is often missing in our fallen world. We tend to forget the benefits of God, instead focusing on the deficiencies of ourselves and our neighbors.
God forgives ALL our sins–but we must seek that forgiveness and accept it! God heals all our diseases– some of them here and now; others in eternity. God redeems our lives from Hell–something we could never do on our own. God crowns us (read that again!) with love and compassion. He pours His love all over us– lavishly, unreservedly, undeservedly–and raises us up to eternal life.
Why do we fear to confess our sins to such a Loving God? It’s not as though He cannot see or know them. It’s not as though He is powerless or unwilling to forgive them. He wants to remove our sins “as far as the east is from the west” (v. 12) And only He can do this. When we deny or ignore our sins, they are not removed, only suppressed. When we wallow in our guilt and shame, our sin is constantly present in our mind. Only God’s perfect forgiveness can free us to make courageous and compassionate choices, confident in His love and power to heal and guide us in His ways.
Sin is ugly. And its power is too great for us to overcome on our own. Its consequences are deadly, and far-reaching– too great for us to make atonement in a lifetime. But its power is broken in the light of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. The sentence is commuted. We are reconciled to the God of Holy, Righteous Perfection. The consequences now belong to Christ yoked with us, working in and through us. We cannot perfectly atone for our actions; but we can give the burden of atonement to the One who can– and the One who can give us His power to bring healing.
He said to them, “Because of your little faith. 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.”
Matthew17:20 ESV (via biblehub.com)
Faith is a vital part of life, and especially a life in pursuit of prayer. If I don’t believe that God exists, and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him (Hebrews 11:6) then my prayers are little more than wishes made on a star or empty dreams.
During Jesus’ ministry on earth, He lamented often that His disciples had so little faith. And yet, He said that if they had “faith like a grain of mustard seed,” nothing would be impossible. In fact, Jesus used seeds in a lot of His teaching. He talked of seeds scattered on different types of soil; mustard seeds growing into large plants; seeds in good soil yielding exponentially large harvests. There is something about seeds that can teach us about the nature of faith. And, according to Jesus Himself, we need to learn about and practice faith in greater measure!
So what are some of the seed lessons we still need to learn?
Seeds start out small. Jesus used a mustard seed, mentioning that it is one of the smallest of all seeds. So often, we want to start out “large” in our faith. We see our doubts as failure, rather than immaturity. We see our slow growth as weakness–and it is! It is that very weakness that God wants to use to show HIS strength. When Jesus “lamented” that the disciples had so little faith, He wasn’t condemning them– instead He was pointing out that faith is a process–that seeds GROW into larger plants.
Seeds do not produce plants unless they are planted! I see websites and Christian bookstores selling jewelry featuring a small glass case with a tiny mustard seed inside. It’s a nice reminder of Jesus’ teaching about faith, but carrying around a mustard seed is NOT the same thing as having faith like a mustard seed. Faith that is never planted and rooted in good soil will remain nothing more than a seed– useful as a piece of decoration, perhaps, but dormant and unproductive. If I have faith “like a mustard seed” in money, or power, or in my own wisdom and skills, it is no more effective than if I throw it on the sidewalk, wear it around my neck, or put it in my pocket.
Seeds need soil, light, and water. Faith doesn’t grow in isolation. I need to listen to others, share with others, and, most of all, live in the good soil of God’s word. I need to pray for others– and I need the prayers of others! I need to talk to God daily; but I also need to read His words to me daily!
Seeds are designed to produce a harvest– fruit, grain, trees, and new seeds! I get distracted, thinking of how faith impacts MY life and my Christian walk. God wants me to grow stronger in my own, yes. But He wants my faith to be multiplied by being visible. Even a root vegetable sends a shoot or a plant above-ground, so there is evidence of growth underground. In doing go, the original seed will disappear! There are days when I cannot see my “mustard seed.” But that is (I hope) because the seed is becoming a mustard plant– producing evidence of God’s sustaining power and love, and providing “seeds” for others to plant.
There are days when my faith may feel small and dead. But I need to remember that the power is not in the “seed” of faith– no matter how small; no matter how large its potential–it is in planting that seed and letting God’s power transform a seed into fruit that will last!
Sometimes, I come to God full– full of joy, full of worry, full of praise, full of confession. But sometimes, I come to God feeling very empty. I am worn out, tired, depressed, inadequate, and lacking. My cup is very empty.
The Bible is filled with images of cups and pouring out– have you ever noticed? “My cup runneth over” (Psalm 23:5) “Let this cup pass from me.” (Matthew 26:39) “Take this cup..” (Luke 22:19-20) “I am being poured out like a drink offering..” (Philippians 2:17) (and many others).
My husband and I went out to lunch recently. The hostess took our drink orders while we looked at the menu. By the time we were ready to order our food, there were glasses of ice water, lemonade, and hot coffee already at our table. Our waitress came over often to check on our food and drink. Before I had finished my lemonade, there was another glass waiting! Before David had finished his coffee, there was more– fresh and piping hot! We came into the restaurant hungry and thirsty– we left refreshed and full. Imagine if our hostess had brought us cups with only a small amount of water or drink, and refused to give us more. We would be disappointed, even surprised. And often, the hostess would come around to a table to find that no one wanted or needed a refill. There was plenty of water to satisfy thirst, yet some people drank sparingly, or left their drink nearly untouched. We take for granted that there will be plenty to drink at the restaurant, yet we often come to God expecting only a little of His rich blessings.
When we come to God empty, He is always ready to fill our cup to overflowing. God’s blessings are abundant. He fills us to overflowing, so the blessings can be shared. Jesus said to the woman at the well, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14 NIV via biblegateway.com)
I feel guilty when I come to God feeling empty and needy. I don’t deserve a full cup of God’s blessing. But I must come willing to accept, not what I think I deserve, but what God is pleased to give. Even if I feel empty, I may be ignoring a cup filled with pride, shame, guilt, or self-dependence. God cannot fill a cup already full of such things. But God is pleased to fill to overflowing the cup that is ready to receive Him! And He is not just filling my cup to overflowing– He is filling my cup so that I have something to pour out to others!
Sometimes, my cup seems empty because I have been pouring myself out. I can do this in good ways or bad, for the right reasons or in self-abasing ways. But Jesus poured Himself out for others–figuratively and even literally, spilling His blood for our atonement. We are to share our lives and resources with others– to pour out of our abundance. Sometimes this leaves us feeling empty–temporarily. God does not mean for us to live in emptiness, but He also doesn’t mean for us to hoard His blessings. The more we pour out, the more there is to refill our cup!
But there is another blessing– the blessing of another empty cup. There is a cup of wrath that should be ours– a cup filled with bitterness, regret, punishment, and pain–a cup of eternal thirst for justice and salvation–one that Jesus willingly drank for us. The cup He extends is the cup of blessing and joy that was His from the foundation of the world; a cup we could never have tasted but for His sacrifice.
Before us are two cups– one that can be forever filled to overflowing, and one that can remain empty of the bitter dregs of sin.
Some places in America are observing Columbus Day today. This has become a controversial subject. For many years, schoolchildren were taught that Christopher Columbus, an Italian explorer working for the Spanish, “discovered” America when he landed on the island of Hispaniola in 1492.
Modern scholars are offended by this for a variety of reasons. First, there were already people in the Americas– Columbus didn’t “discover” a new-found continent devoid of people or culture. Just because the Spanish court, and most of Europe, didn’t recognize the existence of North and South America and the Caribbean, doesn’t mean they were undiscovered. It only means they were undiscovered by the major European powers. Scholars go on to argue that Columbus and the Spanish (and the French and English and Portuguese who followed) did not so much “discover” the “New World;” they invaded and stole it from those who were living here “in peace.”
I disagree with the way scholars have “revised” the history of Western culture. But it causes me to think of how, over the years, we have also revised the message of the Gospel, and our concept of Christianity.
Much like the modern scholars’ version of Columbus “Discovering” America, many people like to talk about “discovering” Christianity. We “encounter” the Gospel. Maybe we join a local congregation of believers, or a Bible study group. It’s exciting– at first. It is new and amazing in its message of hope and love and grace.
But then we hear ugly stories of Christians who are hateful, judgmental, condemning, greedy, hypocritical, and hurtful. “That can’t be true; that can’t be what Christianity is about,” we say. And so we vow that “our” Christianity will be different. We adapt our message to the current trends in our society. We tailor our message to our friends and neighbors, even when the it’s no longer true. We wipe out and “conquer” and reshape those verses that cause offense. We recreate Jesus into a “great teacher,” a pal or a guru, rather than a Sovereign Savior. We end up following our own gospel, rather than the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Or, we double down on legalism, making our walk with Christ more like a walk with His accusers, the Pharisees. We scream and argue about the “right” way to worship, or dress, or manage money. And we seek to wipe out those who don’t follow our traditions. We remove the promise of Grace from our Christianity, and replace it with judgment.
Except it isn’t “our” Christianity. We haven’t “discovered” the Gospel to make it into a “new” and better religion. We haven’t “discovered” a Jesus who is kinder or more accepting or less judgmental than He ever was. And We don’t follow a Jesus who refuses to love those who are not perfect or forgive those who have “fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)
Our “discovery” of Jesus should be a lifelong discovery– a lifelong journey of becoming who He wants us to be; becoming more like who He really is. Part of that is living out our faith in a world that refuses to understand or accept the Gospel. Part of it is living our lives according to the Bible’s principles, and not our culture’s trends. Part of it is trusting that God’s word never changes, even when the world around it does. And part of it is a consistent pursuit and practice of humble and earnest prayer. Otherwise, we may well be guilty of the same conquest and colonization as those we are condemning who came before us.
21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ 23 Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’ Matthew 7:21-23 (NIV)
In my life I have met “important”people– people with money, or power, or fame, (or all three!) And I have met “forgotten” people, “ordinary” people, “special” people, flamboyant people, even repugnant people.
I know hundreds of people’s names; recognize their faces; carry memories of laughter created, or goals accomplished, or griefs shared. As I get older, I sometimes meet up with people I should remember or know, but I can’t place their name, or their face has changed out of recognition since we last met. And of course, the same thing sometimes happens in reverse– I expect to be recognized, but the other person has no memory of me. It can be distressing; this feeling of not remembering or not being acknowledged.
I know many families who have journeyed through Alzheimer’s or other forms of dementia. Loving someone who no longer remembers looking into your eyes, no longer reacts to the tone of your voice, no longer knows your intimate secrets…who searches your face and sees only a stranger. Hoping for even a glimmer of recognition; a moment of memory–it’s heart-breaking and harrowing and exhausting.
But imagine hearing those words from your creator– “I never knew you.” In all your life, never having made time to create memories with the God who formed you in the womb, who counts the very hairs of your head; hearing HIM say, “I never knew you. I made you; I was as close as your next breath through every moment of your life. I heard every laugh; I saw every tear– yet I never KNEW you. You never let me in; you never reached out or looked in my direction. You pretended to others that you knew me. You ‘name-dropped.’ You told others that we were friends. That you spoke with me every day. I heard you. I wept. But I never knew you. And you never knew me. Oh, you learned about me. You knew enough to convince some others that you knew me. You even said elaborate prayers and quoted many of my words. You put on a good show. But you lived your life as though you never met me; as though I were no more than a myth or a shadow. And now, now that you see me for who I AM; now that your eternal life depends on it–you have to hear the most frightening words I will ever speak: ‘I never knew you.'”
10 I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. 12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Philippians 3:10-12
Of all the people I have met; of all the people I know– Lord Jesus, let me recognize Your voice above all. Let me cherish your presence in every moment of my life, and in every relationship. Grant me grace and wisdom to follow you and live in joyful obedience. And let me invite others into your presence. Let me know you and be known by you. Let me be eternally yours as you are mine.
I love revisiting the promises of God. But I have to be careful not to make God’s promises into something they are not.
In Matthew 11, Jesus gives a promise– “I will give you rest.” But sometimes, I read more (or less) into this promise than Jesus meant.
28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV) via biblegateway.com
First, Jesus bids us come to Him. There are times I want rest, but I want it on my terms– I want ease, comfort, rest, and renewal in the middle of my own plans, activities, and even rebellion. When we pray, we need to come to Jesus, not demand that He come to us.
Next, Jesus offers rest to those who are weary and burdened. Similarly, Jesus said He came to save those who were lost, NOT those who already saw themselves as justified. If I come to Jesus asking for perpetual rest– never willing to trust Him when He asks me to exert myself or carry a burden–I will never know complete rest or fulfillment in Him.
In the very next verse, Jesus offers a yoke– certainly not a symbol of rest for most of us!–and He offers to teach us to find rest. Rest is not a gift like grace or love, even though Jesus “gives” it to us. Rest is a reward. And Jesus makes it clear that He will be with us every step of the way as we work and rest in Him. A yoke has many bad connotations– slavery or bondage, burdens, toil, and hard labor in the hot sun–but it can also have a positive meaning. Oxen who are yoked together share the load– with the lead ox taking the brunt of the burden, and the yoke-fellow carrying a lesser share. Imagine one ox trying to pull the load alone! Yet that is what many of us are doing– trying to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders and pushing away the One who wants to share our load and lead us in the best and most restful paths.
We don’t do much work with teams of horses or oxen in my community. We have powerful machines that make quick work of heavy loads– our burdens have less to do with loads of grain or logs, and more to do with mental and emotional stress. But Jesus reminds us that He is “gentle and humble in heart”–that the rest He promises is rest for our souls.
What a wonderful promise in these turbulent times! Will we take up this offer? Will we claim this promise of our Loving Father to share our burdens and bring us to a place of rest?
I’ve always been intrigued by the story in John’s Gospel about the “woman at the well.” (John 4https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%204&version=KJV). Jesus and his disciples are travelling through Samaria, and they decided to rest near Jacob’s well at the town of Sychar. The disciples travel into town for food, leaving Jesus alone at the well. A lone woman comes along, and Jesus asks her for a drink of water.
This would seem to be an ordinary encounter, but there are many clues that tell us a different story. The woman comments that Jews don’t ordinarily speak to or interact with Samaritans. But even more extraordinary, most Jewish men would not strike up a conversation with a lone Samaritan woman, unless he meant to insult her or proposition her. The very fact that she is coming to the well alone and near noon (the sixth hour) puts her at a distinct disadvantage– most of the women would come early in the day to draw water, where their numbers offered protection and support, and the heat of the day would not add to the burden of carrying the water back home.
At first, this woman seems both suspicious and dismissive of Jesus. Why is he asking for a drink of water? Does he want more than just water? Does he mean her harm? He seems thirsty, not threatening– but is he safe? Then Jesus throws a curve ball– he claims to HAVE water that brings total satisfaction and life. Water far better than any of the water he has just asked for! The woman’s tone changes from suspicious to sarcastic. And then, Jesus drops the bombshell– “Go, call thy husband, and come hither.”
Aha! Here it comes… The woman admits that she has no husband. She has no protector, no status. NOW this Jewish man, this stranger, will take advantage. Or he will make improper advances. Or he will despise her even more. But instead, Jesus reveals her darker secret– she has had five husbands, and she is with another man who is not her husband. Maybe he is someone else’s husband. Maybe he refuses to marry her. Maybe he treats her badly– this man who lets her come to the well at midday with no protection and no helper. Maybe the five husbands all died; maybe she has been divorced or abandoned time after time. Jesus knows all this– yet he doesn’t call her names or look at her with disgust. He even commends her for telling the truth!
I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I would want to meet a stranger who know that much about me. I don’t want to be reminded of my failures, my bad choices, or my past sorrows or shame. Yet this was the heart of the woman’s testimony as she went back into town. “Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?”
For years, the profound nature of this encounter was lost on me. What is so exciting about someone who knows your dirty laundry and tells it back to you? There are magicians and illusionists, fortune-tellers, and charlatans galore who attempt to do such “readings.” How is it that this woman’s life could be transformed by such an unlikely and disturbing encounter? Why would she be so eager to share this encounter with all the men (or people) of her town– people who probably despised her?
Because an encounter with Jesus is an encounter with pure and holy compassion. Jesus KNEW the very worst about this woman. He could have shunned her or avoided her. He could have railed at her about her lifestyle or her past. He could have treated her shamefully. Others almost certainly had. But Jesus didn’t just see all the things she had done, or all the things that had happened in her life. He saw HER. He spoke TO her, not at her or through her, not down to her, but face-to-face, and eye-to-eye. Knowing all about her status, he came to HER for help–knowing that she had something of value to offer–not to “put her in her place,” or use her, or demand that she serve him. Jesus welcomes us into the safety of His compassion, so that no matter what we’ve done or what’s been done to us, He looks us in the eyes and wants to be part of our story– part of “all that ever” we WILL do! And THAT is life-changing!
How many people will I encounter today who are outcast, beaten down, shunned, and mistreated? What kind of encounter will it be? Will I see “all that ever they did” and dismiss them as unworthy of my attention? Or will I see THEM–uniquely created by God for a purpose; loved beyond all that I can imagine? Can my friends and family, neighbors and strangers feel safe and loved knowing that I know everything about them? Is it “Safe” to meet me at the well? I pray that God’s love will spill out and overflow to others as I go through the day. May He do the same through you.
Pursuing Prayer 