Category: compassion

The Test of a Profound Silence, [Extreme Faith]

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But Jesus gave her no reply, not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. “Tell her to go away,” they said. “She is bothering us with all her begging.”

Matthew 15:23, NLT

This is exceptional.  Jesus is always engaging people around him.  He teaches and preaches, fully energized by the Holy Spirit.  He is a veritable hurricane of goodness and love.  He heard every request, and healed every disease.  But yet.  On this occasion he is completely silent.

The woman’s piteous crying, and begging was seemingly ignored.  “If Jesus won’t respond to me, I will go to his followers.”  She presses, and cajoles.  She falls on her knees.  Have you ever seen a person truly beg?  It is a very disconcerting experience.  Yet, Jesus does nothing, in spite of being able to do all things.

She is a Canaanite; a pagan widow, and her daughter was demonized.  Curiously, there was a large heathen temple to Eshmun, the Canaanite god of healing, was just three miles down the road.  But her desperate cry was for something real.  Something authentic and real that would heal her daughter’s affliction.  Only Jesus has what she needs.

Jesus is astonishingly silent.  He stands and sees, he hears her cries.  She is sobbing, clutching at the disciples robes, disheveled and distressed.  It was a desperate scene. Very ugly and very sad.

Jesus responds to his disciple’s plea.  Then there is something that seems like a negotiation.  A protracted conversation with a ‘seemingly’ reluctant Messiah.  It is somewhat disturbing as we listen.  Jesus seems to treat her callously.  I have always been mystified by this, troubled by his behavior. I can only conclude that what he did was necessary in some way.

But the Son of God sees through this. 

And then she makes an incredible statement.  Jesus is suddenly amazed at her faith in him.  This faith is what he has been waiting to see. She may have known despair, but that isn’t enough. Jesus leads her from the edge. Until she moved to a position of belief, nothing will change. Faith seems to change everything.  This is key.  It isn’t her words that alters things– it is her heart!  At that moment, Jesus declares a healing for her daughter.  She is now free from the demon’s grip.

So often I have also felt the pressure from the darkness.  I am often embattled and driven into a despair that seems to cripple me.  But Jesus is waiting for me, to come to him through an unflinching faith.  My good works can never, ever be enough.  I’m just like a dog, waiting for food under the table.  I have little, if any, decorum or sophistication.  There is nothing at all, to commend me to him. Nothing at all.

“Our Lord sometimes yet seems to be silent to His people when they cry to Him. To all their earnest supplications He answers not a word. Is His silence a refusal? By no means. Ofttimes, at least, it is meant only to make the suppliants more earnest, and to prepare their hearts to receive richer and greater blessings. So when Christ is silent to our prayers, it is that we may be brought down in deeper humility at His feet, and that our hearts may be made more fit to receive heaven’s gifts and blessings.”

–J.R. Miller

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My Pretend Jesus [Reality]

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Question. Is the real you, touching the “real Jesus?”

For some time now, I am asking myself this simple question. I’ve had some convicting  moments as I swirled this question around in my heart. There is no condemnation in this; believe me– it’s just a question (But I think it has pretenses of being more.)

First, I truly believe that God does not hide Himself the way we might think He does. As new covenant people; those purchased through Jesus’ death and resurrection, there is no room for doubt about this. We now truly have access into the very throne room. We are free to come and go, according to our desire.

Second, I’m starting to realize that I want to approach Him, but I draw back in fear, guilt and doubt. I hide in the bushes when I hear Him approaching (sound familiar?) And although I have assurance that Jesus wants me, I’m not fully convinced that He likes being with me– deep down.

And I’m not sure I always like Him. So, all too often, I creep up (in my creepy kind of way) and try to get enough of His Holy Spirit, without getting pulled into anything too authentic. I’m of the (false) opinion that He will demand something for me I won’t like.

In the C.S. Lewis book, “The Silver Chair” we are introduced to Jill. She is thirsty, she looks for water and finds it in a nearby stream. But, there is a difficult problem. You see the lion Aslan is very close, and to drink would make her vulnerable. The Lion speaks. He invites her to come and drink all the water she wants. She stalls. He waits. The thirst quickly intensifies until she can think of nothing else.

I have a ‘Jill-heart.’  God is present, and quite eager for me to come satisfy my thirst. But it terrifies me to become open and vulnerable. It is hard. It seems I still have to work through this issue.

Sometimes, I find I construct a modified Jesus to allow me to cope with this problem. He is not the real Jesus, and somehow I know this. But encountering the real is a bit too much. So I have a Jesus that is really kind, and never corrects me. He lets me get away with a lot of things. And I don’t have to have contact with the homeless or tithe. I admit I’m fairly comfortable with Him. (He is like me, but more “god-like.”)

OK, new thought. Many centuries ago, a monk by the name of Lawrence wrote the classic book,  The Practice of the Presence of God. In it he directs the seeker to be in habitual awareness of God. And I’m thinking about this. I know it’s really not a fluid or unending experience, but throughout my day I take a moment and invite Jesus to come closer. And, it’s best if you don’t turn “the means into the end.” After  all, its the presence of God we seek– and not the mechanics of seeking.  Big difference.

I have gotten very dissatisfied with my fake Jesus. He’s not a bad guy, but he is only a “knock-off,” an imitation– an imaginary Jesus.

I’m coming to this place where I want the real Jesus– in contact with the real me, as often as I can. For years I have dodged Him, ducking in alleys and in dark places. I have propped up a Jesus that I found easier. Those days are done, I hope.

Question. Is the real you touching the “real” Jesus?

ybic, Bryan

 

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The Sinning Servant

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God responds to our personal falterings in an amazing way. The prophet Elijah had experienced considerable fireworks in his ministry. One could easily dismiss an incident when he failed big time.

“Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. 2 Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” 3 Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there.”

1 Kings 19:1-3, ESV

Up to this time:

  1. Elijah was coming off Mt. Carmel having witnessed fire from heaven.
  2. The 450 prophets of Baal had been executed.
  3. Rain was coming through his prayer, the long drought was ending.

Things seemed right on track for a nationwide revival. Life was good for Elijah, and for the Kingdom of Israel. “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

But Queen Jezebel wasn’t about to give up her stranglehold on the kingdom. She threatens Elijah. A messenger is dispatched to him; and Elijah is completely intimidated. He reacts by running as fast as he can to get away. The prophet known for boldness and miracles flees for his life into the wilderness.

What was it about Jezebel that caused such a frantic and irrational move? Why didn’t Elijah’s faith stand this test? He had been in stickier places.

“But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.”

1 Kings 19:4

Fear and fatigue were working on Elijah’s mind. This is a fact, if you’re acting unscripturally you will behave irrationally.

God ministers to his sinning servant with a powerful and formidable gentleness. It takes awhile for Elijah to react to this tenderness. But there is a no condemnation, no recrimination, no words of rebuke; all we hear is God’s still small voice. God doesn’t chide, but quietly asks his prophet to consider. All Elijah does is accept a certain grace. That’s it.

“And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And behold, there came a voice to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 

1 Kings 19:13

Fear, defeat, and self-pity were real issues for Elijah (the man of God). Scripture tells us that, “Elijah was a man with a nature like ours” (James 5:17). We are not machines, but mere men who falter and trip. That is good to remember.

In 2 Corinthians 12:10 Paul comments, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” The Gospel is predicated on human weakness and flaws. It reaches us consistently where we need it most. The God of Elijah still whispers to broken hearts.

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Present Tense Prodigals

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“So he returned home to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming. Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him. 21 His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against both heaven and you, and I am no longer worthy of being called your son.

Luke 15:20-21, NLT

The Parable of the Prodigal Son has typically been taught as a ‘once upon a time’ event in the life of one wayward youth. We understand it to be such. The prodigal returns to his Father, case closed. It is a remarkable story that resonates to every broken believer.

But what if I told you that this parable is present tense. That we are continuously wandering, spending our inheritance and living off the wealth of our Father. We feel bad about this, we repent and return, only to embark on another foray into sin of our own choosing. It happens all the time.

My point is this. We seem to be always the prodigal. We never seem to outgrow this. We are constantly coming to our senses, and returning home. We seem to never get the point that our personal sin as eternal consequences. We live like there is no tomorrow, except we have to sober up and realize we have wandered far from our home.

The story of the prodigal is written to us who have repeatedly (that means very often) find themselves a good distance from where we should be. We find ourselves feeding the pigs again. We abhor our choices, and wonder again if our Father will take us back just one more time. Reason says ‘No!,’ but faith says ‘Yes!’

God’s love for us is greater than all our evil wanderings. It extends to the ups and downs of our vacillating discipleship. He sees it all and fully accepts us as His returning son. We will never tire out His constant love. We can feel ashamed of our recent behavior, but that changes nothing. We belong to Him, even if we feel wretched.

There are belivers who are overwhelmed by their sense of sin. Some of this is inflated by the devil. And yet they feel estranged from the Church. They know what they’ve done, and they can find no excuse for their actions. They’ve wandered again (for the 100th time).

The Father’s love is not subject to your obedience.

Grace is not some meager thing doled out in some stingy manner. It is given outrageously to each son or daughter without limits. Rascals are included. God is not a miser.

“But his father said to the servants, ‘Quick! Bring the finest robe in the house and put it on him. Get a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. 23 And kill the calf we have been fattening. We must celebrate with a feast, 24 for this son of mine was dead and has now returned to life. He was lost, but now he is found.’ So the party began.

Luke 15:22-24

‘One, and your done’ doesn’t apply to your heavenly Father. His love for you can’t be reduced to this level. Pick yourself up, leave the pigs, and come home again.

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