And Jesus Stopped

We live in community. Which means that our lives are woven together with those around us in very practical ways. Day by day. Hour by hour. It makes life very interesting!

Take Friday, for example When we woke up, we had TWO items on our agenda for the day: Clean the house and finish our preparations for the Good Friday and Easter services at church. Two do-able things.

However, at morning prayer I was asked if I could host twin three-year-old boys at my house for lunch while their mother was at a doctor's appointment.

Then David was asked if he could take a neighbor to the food bank--she doesn't have a car and it is too far for her to walk.

Just as he got home from the food bank, our friends called, needing a ride home from the hospital in Tours--which is about thirty minutes away.

David was a taxi service. I was a child care. This is our life. And we like it!

By the end of the day, the house got cleaned (enough) and the church services got planned (mostly). We are learning to tolerate embrace the interruptions that come with living in community. Because that is what Jesus did.

While he was on his way to Jerusalem, someone interrupted Jesus. A blind man named Bartimaeus was begging on the side of the road, and he heard that the Nazarene was passing by. He began to cry out fanatically. Shamelessly. He was making a spectacle of himself, and the crowd was embarrassed by his antics. They tried to shut him up, but he shouted even louder.

"Son of David, have mercy on me!"

And Jesus stopped.

Jesus--the most important man in history, during the most important week in history--stopped. He set aside his own agenda, and took time to care for the needs of another. He did not shun the interruption, he honored it. And this wasn't a first for Jesus. He often stopped for children, foreigners, and sinners.

He is my model for what it means to live in community. With Jesus, people always come before plans, tenderness trumps tasks, and interruptions are embraced.

Oh, I am not there yet! I still bristle when I sense that my day has just been rearranged to accommodate the needs of those around me. I bristle, and then I think of Blind Bartimaeus. And I remember that Jesus stopped. And I ask him to stop me. 

Tweet

Inspired by St. Francis of Assisi, David has started preaching to the animals around Loches. It hasn't resulted in an actual church plant yet, but he does have about five new "disciples," most of whom are of the feathered variety. It turns out that the gospel really is for the birds!

As for me, it looks like I'll have to cut back on Dance Dance Revolution for a while. Its not easy being 42 and pregnant.

Chandler will be laying low for a while, too. He recently sprained his coccyx in badminton tournament at school. The French play rough. On the bright side,  he won third place!

Graham has been exploring possible career paths for his future, and he is having a hard time making up his mind between two compelling professions: Puppeteer or Somalian Pirate Hunter? His SAT scores may be the deciding factor.

Turns out Jack should have been named Jacqueline. We woke up to find a litter of kittens in our closet this morning. I thought he had put on a little weight, and I wondered why the 'diet' cat food wasn't working.

Well, that's about all our news for the day--just one more thing:

April Fools!

Please note--NONE of the above is true. I AM NOT, I repeat NOT pregnant! 

Tweet

Broken

"Fix it, Mommy!" he begged, handing me the broken toy.

There would be no fixing. It was demolished. Beyond repair. Couldn't he see that?

"Fix it, please," he said, shoving smashed plastic into my hands. Who does he think I am?

"I can't, bud. It's ruined. I'm sorry." I could see his confidence waning, but he didn't lose faith completely.

"TRY if you can fix it!" he encouraged me.

"Try if you can..." was a phrase of his own invention. He used it often to spur on my efforts. "Try if you can open this for me," "Try if you can reach it," "Try if you can like it."

But trying would be no use. I shook my head, at a total loss. "I can't!"

He had one last hope: "Maybe Daddy can fix it!"

It wasn't a bad idea....Of course he was talking about David, but his faith in his earthly father was just a reflection of a greater, truer truth. If I could teach my boys just one thing about brokenness it would be this: Take it to your heavenly Father. He can fix anything.

How often have I handed him the broken pieces of my own life? He has a knack for fixing things.

Tweet

In Weakness

It would have been a difficult conversation in English, there's no doubt about it.

Even if I had been able speak in my mother tongue, I would have spoken slowly. I would have used carefully chosen words, praying with every breath, hoping to say just what needed to be said. I would have used gentle phrasing and deliberate diplomacy to address a tender subject. Even if I had been able to draw upon my English vocabulary and verbal acuity, it would have been a really difficult conversation.

But the conversation was in French. 

As rudimentary words fell from my tongue they rang harshly in my own ears. I sensed the sharpness of my message but had no means with which to soften its blow. I spoke the truth, but I wondered if the love was lost in translation.

Tears fell down as her defenses came up. She gave no indication of understanding. Was I doing more harm than good? Was I the wrong person to be doing this? Would it have been better to ignore the problem?

Ministry is messy. And sometimes I hate it. Most times I feel inadequate. At all times Jesus is faithful.

Somewhere, somehow, my clumsy words eventually rang true. By God's grace (and despite my ineptness) repentance, forgiveness, and redemption were found. To him be all the glory!

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

Tweet

When Ministry Gets Messy

"Sometimes I hate ministry," I sighed, walking out the back door of the church and turning towards the bakery.

It was the first sunny day in weeks, but a dark cloud loomed in my spirit. It would be a day of hard conversations, and I was weary from it before even uttering a word.

Ministry always involves people, and as one of my dear mentors is fond of reminding me, "Where there's people, there's poo poo."

Today was a day of dealing with the poo.

I don't like the poo, but I deal with it just the same. I do it because I love the people. I do it because God loves the people. I do it because Jesus died to deal with our messes. All of them. Even the poo.

And if I am honest, I have to admit that I have made my fair share of contributions to the mess that humanity brings to ministry. There is a stamp in my passport that actually serves as a reminder of this little fact. Maybe you have one too. It says, "Admitted POO." David has the same stamp in his passport. So do the boys. We all have "Admitted POO."

So when, on days like today, I have to deal with other peoples' messes, it good for me to pull out my passport and remind myself of the many times that others have had to clean up after me. 

Tweet

Remember

Every year on our anniversary, David and I take time to remember the mercies of God.

1993

Jenn graduated

David got promoted

We began saving for a house

David draws a timeline, and then we draw little altars on the timeline and label their significance.

1994

We bought our first house

We were comforted after leaving a church

He got the idea from the Old Testament, where God commanded the Israelites to build altars of remembrance.

1995

Pregnant!- a month after the doctor told me that I was infertile

Birth of our first miracle child

Each year we marvel, because His mercies never cease.

1996

God provides for a new roof in a miraculous way

Surprise! A second miraculous pregnancy

Deliverance from a sin that had gripped David for years

It is easy to get lost in the trials of today and forget the eternal faithfulness of God.

1997

A grace filled conversation with my sister--our last one before she dies

Birth of our second miracle child

So we build our altars of remembrance to remind us of His goodness. And the list goes on and on....

Today, I am linking up with Lisa Jo Baker for Five Minute Friday, where writers are encouraged to just write for five minutes on a given prompt, without editing, over-thinking, or backtracking. 

Tweet

Which do I choose?

In my Bible, he doesn't a have name.

He has power.

He has prestige.

He has potential. 

But he doesn't have a name. He is simply called, "The rich, young ruler." 

Though he is a man of influence, he approaches Jesus with childlike eagerness.

As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him...

He demonstrates humility and respect.

...and fell on his knees before him.

And he asks a sincere question:

“Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Most educated Jews came to Jesus with answers, not questions. I can't imagine they ran to Him. We certainly never hear of them kneeling before Him. Jesus replies, perhaps playfully, at first.

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honor your father and mother.’”

As Jesus recites the law, I imagine the man was encouraged. Jesus was telling him something he already knew. There was nothing shocking or unexpected in the first half of Jesus' response. Perhaps the rich, young ruler dared to breathe a sigh of relief as he declared,

“Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy.”

Oh, the weight of the silence that followed. This faithful, religious man--this law-abiding, righteous-living man, waiting for his verdict. Hoping he had done enough; hoping he was good enough.

He is looking for a judgement. But Jesus is looking for a relationship. The next words in scripture leave no room for doubt:

Jesus looked at him and loved him.

Jesus loved him. Jesus loved his eagerness. Jesus loved his respectfulness. Jesus loved the sincerity of his question. Jesus even loved his passion for righteousness. But above all that, Jesus LOVED him. Knowing every second of this man's past, Jesus loved him. Knowing what was about to happen, Jesus loved him.

Here is where the story starts to hurt. We modern Christians have become Jesus Salesmen, always trying to make it as easy as possible for people to come to faith. Jesus never made it easy. In fact, with Jesus it is always an all or nothing proposition.

 “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.Then come, follow me.”

I'm pretty sure that this assignment wasn't about the money. I'd even wager it wasn't about helping the poor. It was about relationship. Jesus wanted a fully devoted follower. Jesus wanted an unencumbered disciple. Jesus wanted more than good deeds and law-keeping. He wanted the rich, young ruler's whole life. Why?

Because Jesus loved him. 

And the fact that Jesus loved him tells us no one was more grieved by the rich, young ruler's response than Jesus.

 At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.

Jesus loved the rich, young ruler. Jesus died for the rich, young ruler. But the rich, young ruler went away sad, choosing his creature comforts over eternal life.

And so I have to ask myself, "Which do I choose?"

Tweet