Category: compassion

I am Jonah

1 “But Jonah was greatly displeased and became angry. 2 He prayed to the LORD, “O LORD, is this not what I said when I was still at home? That is why I was so quick to flee to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity. 3 Now, O LORD, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.”

 4 But the LORD replied, “Have you any right to be angry?”

Jonah 4:1-4, NIV 

Jonah is the very essence of the modern Christian who prefers God to be just like them (only more so.)  Just like Jonah we can be:

  1. unbelieving,
  2. unaccepting and
  3. unforgiving.

When you mix the three, (in a kind of “Jonah smoothie”) you will have something quite religious– but very toxic.  A toxicity that normally should require protective clothing and a quarantine.

Jonah has a sense of who God really is.  But, he disagrees.  In his eyes, God is way too excessive, way too elaborate in His love.  He makes way too many possibilities for forgiveness.  It drives him nuts, to serve a God that is way too liberal with His love.  It seems to push Jonah to try to readjust the love of God on his own.

In the eyes of Mr. Jonah, he simply must modify the “way of salvation.”  In his way of thinking, he can’t let God, be wholly God.  Jonah simply must step in, and dial back the real tendency of God to venture into His excessive and foolish love.  He must be thinking that what God is doing is way too outrageous, and far too far for human reasoning.

Amazingly, Jonah knows God deeply.  He knows, and he is afflicted by the grace that God has for these Ninevites.  Jonah doesn’t get vague, rather he gets specific.  He becomes more aware.  Verse 2 states Jonah’s deep awareness that God is simply too good for people, He is far too rich and generous with the behavior of people who live way too loose.

Since God seems so excessive we feel we must adjust Him.

It seems we must work to make Him more acceptable, and to redefine Him into a more focused kind of religious faith.  Something that makes sense to us His followers.  Something in the way the World perceives Him.  It so seems that this is a job that almost every believer jumps at. (I vote to send God to “rehab.”) :-)

We feel we need to dial God’s grace down.

But the LORD replied, “Have you any right to be angry?”  The Lord speaks specifically to Jonah.  He asks a question, which is a very good idea, when confronting foolish thinking.  “Have you any right?”  This question reverberates and echos through the corridors inside our hearts.  It seems our right doesn’t extend that far.  Being “angry” with God (and the way He does things,) is never an acceptable way of thinking.

Simply put, you have no right.  You have nothing.  There isn’t any allowance or prerogative given, that allows you to alter and adjust the way God wants His reputation and character to be made public.  Sorry, you can’t “airbrush” Him to meet the perceived ideas of the mass population.  He will not allow you to “photoshop” His face or presence, to make His love more presentable.

A New Face, or a New Heart?

“The church is not a select circle of the immaculate, but a home where the outcast may come in.”

“It is not a palace with gate attendants and challenging sentinels along the entrance ways holding off at arm’s length the stranger, but rather a hospital where the brokenhearted may be healed, and where all the weary and troubled may find rest and take counsel together.”

—James H. Aughey

We live in challenging times. As people of faith, we’re slowly learning what Jesus really wants us to recognize. It seems every generation must understand all over again. Sometimes it seems we are taking two steps forward, and one step back.

Oh well.

The Church must reacquaint itself with the total love of God for all people once again.

The Father hasn’t given up on us. Repeatedly, over and over, (and then over again) we learn about His unreal faithfulness to the Church and His love for all people. But sometimes we have a hard time believing these things. Honestly, we’re not what we should be, but thank God we’re not like we were. We’re learning this as well.

He’s more faithful than the most loyal person who has ever lived!

And we also must understand this. He is always seeking those who are on the margins: the lame, blind, sick and crippled. But thank God He’s still in the business of ‘collecting’ people who are desperate. (And if you can’t really see this, perhaps you should.)

The Church, and the churches we attend, are meant for those who are sick–the outcasts. It’s primarily a hospital, and the “sentinels” (pastors and elders, and others) must understand this. We must know and believe this. And we must know for ourselves the love “that passes all understanding.”

Jesus loves everyone, but if you must know, He’s specifically looking for the outcasts.

A really good study is those persons in scripture, who in their neediness, scream out “Son of God, have mercy on me.” There are 4-5 in the Gospels who said that. Although they modify this plea/prayer in slightly different ways, all of them are terribly desperate.

I encourage you to study this out, and get a deep handle on it. 

Our churches mustn’t lose sight of this kind of love, and if your fellowship isn’t doing this, just maybe you’re the one called to implement it. And if this isn’t possible, you might consider moving on. (I loathe to advise this.)

But please reject ‘the country club’ version of the Church.

It isn’t right and it’s not the heart of God. It’s religion that comes to us in its gradient forms of foolishness. It doesn’t really reflect the intense seeking of God. Somehow, along the way, churches got lost in the routine efforts of a religious routine.

The challenge is not just getting seekers to renounce the pigpen like the prodigal did. Most understand and are ready to do this. But sometimes the issue is within us, the Church– we dare not become the older brother– (Luke 15:1-2 and vv. 30-32). Usually we will be one or the other.

The question facing the Church is this:

Do we want to see face lifts, or a heart transplant?

One is for looking better, the other describes an entire overhaul. One is cosmetic, the other is a matter of life and death and reaches the heart. One is relatively minor, the other is definitely not. What kind does your Church have?

We really must sort this out.

I suppose the sooner the better.

Cutting a Rose (Death)

There’s been a death in my family. A young man just 24 years old passed a week ago. He was the only child of my aunt and uncle, and they are rightfully devastated. The whole thing is pain on steroids–as awful as it gets. Shock and grief is saturating our family.

We’re all asking why.

A young man who’s just learning how to live is gone. He was in the springtime of his life. His faith in Jesus was just beginning, and he was starting to sort things out, just like we all do. He is gone, but we’ll meet him again.

“Who gathered this flower?’ The gardener answered, ‘The Master.’ And his fellow servant held his peace.”

I wonder if the shock will ever wear off. I suppose it will, but it will come little by little. Jesus must have time to heal and hold in the meantime. He promised us.

Grief on this level defies words of human comfort and consolation. I am frustrated to counsel pain on this level. I’m ashamed when I do. I keep my mouth shut and that’s not easy for me.

There’s terrible guilt, anger and isolation.

The Holy Spirit is strongly emphasizing prayer now. I realize that only He can heal, guiding their suffering and healing to an outcome they can’t see. I know, I am certain that Jesus will come and touch his parents, but perhaps our intercession is what it will take to make this happen.

We must stand against Satan and push him away.

In the olden days, medicine was dispensed in powder form, not pills. The pharmacist would measure out a powder to give to the sick. In a sense, this is what God does. He carefully gives what is needed and not a grain more than necessary. I believe this.

Please don’t condemn yourself for speaking trite and inadequate words. You must rest in God’s work now, and realize that only He can heal and comfort pain and anger on this level. Job’s friends were at their best when they said nothing.

Sometimes all you can do is pray fervently. And that is enough.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:7

For People Who Walk in Pain

“While he was in one of the cities, there came a man full of leprosy. And when he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and begged him, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.”

Luke 5:12. ESV

The man is desperate.  His leprosy has advanced; he is covered with it from ‘head-to-toe.’ He’s an outcast now, completely infected by something he never asked for; he is ‘unclean’ and completely without hope. There is no treatment, the doctors can do nothing. How bad can it get?

The leper knows that without the touch of Jesus, he will never be healed. 

He knows it; he doesn’t need to be convinced by anyone over the hopelessness of his condition. But somehow he has heard that Jesus can do real miracles. Could it be that Jesus can heal his sickness?

The leper comes and falls on his knees before the Lord, with his face in the dirt. This man is completely broken; he has no hope, except for Jesus. What else can he do? He is with any real hope.

Our diseases differ, but our lives have been completely changed by our pain. We all have this in common. 

Our pain and darkness vary. Some hurt more, some less. But we’ve all come to the place where we no longer have illusions of somehow being made whole. I sometimes think there should be a secret handshake or a password. We all share a comradeship– we’re all part of the same community. 

We’re a broken club of tired and decidedly unclean misfits.

And we belong to the fellowship of pain.

Lying in the dirt, we’re starting to believe the unbelievable.  Our faith doesn’t activate our healing, as much as it simply guides us to Jesus. We can kneel, and perhaps that’s all we need to do. His presence drives away the fear, the doubt, and the pain. He’s come, and somehow maybe, we begin to hope for mercy.

Only Jesus can carry us through this. Only He can do this.

I have struggled with deep dark depression. I’ve had to take meds.  But when I come into Jesus’ presence, all my melancholy is driven out. He comes and I start to hope again.  Am I a stellar example of perfect discipleship?  I think not. But isn’t about us becoming “angels,” perhaps it’s more about us learning how to kneel, and to allow Jesus to touch our hearts.

Some will understand this, others not so much. That’s ok.

“The Church is not made up of whole people, rather of the broken people who find wholeness in a Christ who was broken for us.”   

–Mike Yaconelli

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