Posts Tagged: Jesus

“Jesus and the Forgiven Woman Who Made a Scene”

A Sinful Woman Forgiven

Luke 7:36   One of the Pharisees asked him to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table. 37 And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, 38 and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment. 39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.” 40 And Jesus answering said to him, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” And he answered, “Say it, Teacher.”

Luke 7:41   “A certain moneylender had two debtors. One owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 When they could not pay, he cancelled the debt of both. Now which of them will love him more?” 43 Simon answered, “The one, I suppose, for whom he cancelled the larger debt.” And he said to him, “You have judged rightly.” 44 Then turning toward the woman he said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. 46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. 47 Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” 48 And he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” 49 Then those who were at table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” 50 And he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” (English Standard Version)

During Jesus’ time—as well as both before and after Jesus’ time—banquets were often occasions for moral instruction. There is most certainly moral instruction in this story about a Pharisee who invited Jesus to dinner and a sinful woman who invited herself! Yes. Moral instruction and then some.

But first, some background information might be helpful. In those days, people reclined on benches around low tables to eat. Thus, one diner’s feet were near neighbors to someone else’s olfactory organs. Streets were not paved or kept clean during ancient times. Thus, washing a guests feet before they reclined to eat was very important. However, Jesus’ host had not seen to this important detail.

Another interesting factoid to consider is this: Even uninvited guests could come and stand around the courtyard wall to listen to a teacher’s instruction. They were supposed to be quiet and not make a scene.

Now I can’t prove what I am about to say, but here are some thoughts that may be more imaginative than convincing. They are reasonable suspicions, nothing more. I will phrase them mostly using a question format.

Had the woman had contact with Jesus before this? Had she poured out her sinful lifestyle to him? Had Jesus already assured her that God still loved and accepted her? Or had she just heard that Jesus was a friend to sinners. (He certainly had that reputation.)

Did she notice that Jesus’ feet were dirty and decide to do something about that? Did she mean to start crying, or did her tears blindside her? Did she undo her hair and use it as towel because she simply didn’t have a towel with her? Did she bring the perfume with her for the express purpose of anointing Jesus’ feet, or was that a spontaneous response to the One she loved?

There is so much we don’t know about this woman and her action. We do know this much: Jesus treated her with kindness, respect, and appreciation. Indeed, Jesus pronounced her forgiven. I suspect that Jesus longs to treat us all in the same manner.

“Invitations, Not Commands”

I have a confession. As you may well have noticed, almost all my posts are stolen from other people. I usually give the giver credit. Sometimes I forget the source. As someone has said, “Originality just means that you’ve forgotten your source.” (See what I did there? As someone has said, . . .!) Today’s post is based on an early-morning phone conversation with my friend Jack.

He was telling me that in a prayer group, they were telling one another stories about a wonderful friend who was their priest. He had just died, and they were remembering what a good impact he had on each of them. As they shared, Jack realized that this priest and everyone else who had had a good influence on him had one thing in common: “The people who are the solutions, the people who have helped me to grow, are people who have given me invitations, not commands.” That was a wonderful insight that Jack gave me. That Jack included me in this group who give invitations rather than commands was also quite wonderful.

But my mind is prone to wander—as well as to wonder—and my mind turned in the direction of Jesus. This is not a bad form of wander or wonder, in my opinion.

Certainly, Jesus gave commands. At least, they were in the imperative in the original Greek of the New Testament. That is to say, they were in the imperative grammatically. But I wonder if it might be more helpful, and even more accurate, to think of Jesus’ “commands” as invitations.

“Come follow me!” Jesus said to many. Invitation or command? Perhaps both, but I suspect that the disciples thought of it more as an invitation. Were there hard things in following Jesus? Absolutely! There still are hard things about following Jesus. Most invitations involve some difficulties. The more important the invitation, the greater the difficulties.

But the bottom line for me is this: Who is better to follow than Jesus is? And my answer, when I am thinking straight, is pretty straightforward: No one!

My wife is a fantastic cook. When she calls me to come and eat, it is a command in form, but in content and in spirit, it is an invitation to experience joy and to be nourished. So it is with Jesus. So, in some measure, it is with certain friends as well. But I believe that Jesus is the Great Inviter.

Thank you, Jack! I love you too!

“A Very Human Chipmunk”

I met a very human chipmunk yesterday. It was caught in some netting that we had put around our raspberries to protect the fruit against birds—and other little opportunists such as the aforementioned chipmunk.

Sharon noticed the chipmunk. I did not. I was already running late for my softball game and did not feel obliged to be in the rescue business. Sharon didn’t want the rodent to die slowly, but I had a solution: I regret to inform you that I proposed bashing the little critter’s head in and putting him/her out of his/her misery (and ours) quickly.

However, my wife’s tender heart melted my own heart. Being the occasionally dutiful husband that I am, I got out some clippers and began to cut the netting. Of course, the chipmunk thought of me as a predator and started frantically trying to escape. This had a predictable effect: The more the chipmunk squirmed, the more enmeshed he became.

But finally, I cut the netting enough to let the little varmint run away. And what he did he do with his newfound freedom? He ran straight into the netting again. By now, I was committed. I cut the netting—again. Again, he ran into the netting, but this time, he wiggled free and dashed under the wooden privacy fence and into our neighbor’s yard.

I don’t really know God very well, but a persistent rumor has it that God is in the rescue business with humans. We get ourselves into trouble again and again, and can’t get ourselves out. We sell our souls for less important things than raspberries. We squirm and struggle and can’t seem to get free. In fact, we get more and more tangled up.

But there is Jesus, who said, “If the son sets you free, you are really free.” (John 10:10) God notices our fatal predicament and does something radically crazy. He sends his son to get us out of the mess that we had gotten ourselves into.

That is wonderful, good news. However, I need to ask myself what I am to do with my freedom. There’s got to be a better choice than using my freedom to run into the same net again.

How about loving God who freed me, and loving people who are either caught in the net or who have been given their freedom too?

Let’s live free today! Also, let’s be on the lookout for our fellow chipmunks who are caught in a net and see if we can be of service to them.

“My Biggest Problem . . . And Yours”

My biggest problem dogs me wherever I go. That’s because my biggest problem is me. I’m not sure how to solve this problem. Perhaps, as with many problems, there is no solution. There are only better (or worse) ways of living with the problem.

Well, to be perfectly honest, two-thousand years ago, Jesus gave me the solution to my problem, but I don’t like it. Here it is:

18 And it came to pass, as he was alone praying, his disciples were with him: and he asked them, saying, Whom say the people that I am? 19 They answering said, John the Baptist; but some say, Elias; and others say, that one of the old prophets is risen again. 20 He said unto them, But whom say ye that I am? Peter answering said, The Christ of God. 21 And he straitly charged them, and commanded them to tell no man that thing; 22 Saying, The Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be slain, and be raised the third day. 23 And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me. 24 For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: but whosoever will lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it. 25 For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself, or be cast away? 26 For whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he shall come in his own glory, and in his Father’s, and of the holy angels. 27 But I tell you of a truth, there be some standing here, which shall not taste of death, till they see the kingdom of God.” (Luke 19:18-27, English Standard Version)

“The one who saves his life will lose it, and the one who loses his life will save it.” This stands all of my ideas on their head. If this is true, I don’t dare live a life that is based on my own thinking about things. Why? Because, in my own mind, it is the one who saves his life who saves his life, and losers are just losers. Either Jesus was right, or I am. And, even if Jesus wasn’t the Son of God—which I believe he was and is—I am hesitant to say that he was full of crap.

Jesus said a lot of really hard things here. He talked about denying ourselves and taking up our cross. And then, he added a really difficult word: daily. We are to take up our cross daily! The Christian faith, as someone has said, is not an initial spasm, followed by a long lethargy. Rather, following Jesus is my/our daily task.

So, it turns out that there is a solution to the problem that is me. Furthermore, I do know what it is. I need to deny myself today, pick up my cross, and follow Jesus.

Someone has said that God doesn’t call us to a picnic, but to a battle. It’s even worse than that, I’m afraid. In a battle, we might have the exhilarating and awful experience of killing someone else. We might end being a hero in someone’s eyes.

The awful truth is that God calls us, not to a battle, but to an execution. And it turns out that we’re the ones that are being executed.

But perhaps, if for just one day, I could deny myself, take up my cross, and follow Jesus, I might begin to solve the problem that is me. There is only one way to know. And Jesus’ execution was followed by a resurrection. He said that his disciples would experience the same things he did. They would experience a cross, but also resurrection. If I don’t choose to do the cross thing, I can’t very well experience resurrection.

Today is the day.

“Not Our Business to Write People Out”

“It is not our business to write people out of our story,” said a friend.

I had just said some kind words about my mother-in-law who died recently. I concluded with, “Even when I came clean about all the wrong I had done, my mother-in-law never wrote me out of the story.” And then my friend came up with this gem of a response: “It is not our business to write people out of our story.”

I believe that this is true. Being written out of someone’s story is very painful, but writing someone else out of our own story is pretty unwise, too.

Don’t get me wrong. There are times when an unrepentant person has done or is doing us great harm. At such times, we may indeed to distance ourselves for our own protection. Such self-protection is wise.

However, writing the person who has hurt us out of our story entirely is not entirely wise. In fact, it may not be possible. The person is part of our story. That profoundly uncomfortable fact can’t be changed.

Let me suggest three positive, healthy ways in which we might think about this matter of refusing to write someone off or out.

First, perhaps we might hold out a hope that the offending person is writing a new script for their life, a script that is better. I am not saying that we should actually believe that they are writing a better story by their thoughts, words, and actions. I am just saying that we should hold on to that hope. That hope may very well also hold us.

Second, perhaps we could write a different part for them in our own story. Maybe we could do a sketch which portrays them not as a villain, but as a very flawed (but potentially decent) person.

Third, those of us who are, or who aspire to be, Christ-followers, need to remember his words about not judging others. Writing people out or off is just another way of speaking of judging them.

One final thought: Maybe I need to choose not to write myself out of the story. And, frankly, I really struggle with that.

My wife and I are estranged from all four of our children. Or, at least, they are estranged from us. The fault is squarely mine. But I refuse to write myself out of the story. That doesn’t mean only that I refuse to take my own life. It means that, but it also means that I stay connected with my children, who are disconnected from me. I don’t contact them, at their request. But they cannot stop me from praying for them, or including them in my daily gratitude lists, or remembering the good times with them. And yes, there were good times, whether they remember them or not.

It is not my business to write myself out of the story either. Neither is it yours.

“Cherishing and Cherished”

“Cherish is the word that I use to describe

All the feelings that I have . . .” (“Cherish” The musical group, The Association)

“God knows how many hairs you have on your head.” (Jesus of Nazareth)

“I cherish my wife, but I don’t know how many hairs she has on her head.” (Me)

I let my wife talk me out of getting a bunch of strawberry plants. I am so glad that she succeeded! I would have gotten twenty-five (or even fifty), which would not have been good. I’m seventy years old, have bone spurs and various other problems. I have no business acting like I am fifteen years old. I bought 1,000 strawberry plants the year I turned fifteen or sixteen. It was for a Future Farmers of America crop project. Seventy is a long way from fifteen.

So, I bought ten plugs with three strawberry plants in each plug. Much smarter! They are everbearing, and already have some berries ripening.

I went out yesterday to see how they were doing. I asked them, and they said, “Oh, we’re just fine! Thank you for giving us a home.”

However, I knew that the rains were coming, so I gave the plants some TLC by placing grass clippings around the plants and especially under the berries. This will (hopefully) keep the berries from getting too muddy. When they get muddy, they tend to rot before they ripen.

As I was carefully lifting the berries and gently placing the clippings under them, I was cherishing the plants and the berries. It occurred to me that, if I had a lot of plants, there was no way that I could cherish them and take such good care of them. There is a saying, “Go big, or go home!” That is probably a good saying for many things. Along the same line is the expression “the economy of scale.” However, there is a lot to be said for the economy of small scale as well.

One of the benefits of the economy of small scale is that, when I go small, I can cherish things more. Staying small helps me to cherish small things in a big way. A friend of mine reminded me that doing small things out of the love of God is the best way to live a life that is worth living. Yes!

Only God is big enough to cherish everything that is. I will confine myself to loving those around me. That would include my wife, our little dog, the goldfinches that visit my bird feeders, and my strawberry plants. It also includes you, dear reader. I hope that you not only feel cherished by reading this little meditation. I hope that you also are moved to cherish other things, including your job, your spouse, and your friends just a bit more.

“A String of Behavioral Beeds”

No, the word “Beeds” in the title is not a misspelling. It is a wonderful new word that a friend of mine coined.

He and I are part of a threesome who help one another with growth and accountability. We are always seeking ways in which we can grow and become better men.

My friend was trying to find an English word for “the smallest meaningful unit of behavior” and couldn’t. So, he invented the word “beed”. It is a blend word, also known as a portmanteau word. (Think of “smog”, which combines “smoke” with “fog”.)

The word “beed” combines the words “behavior” and “deed”. Beeds are not big, hairy audacious goals, or even dramatic deeds. Beeds are the atoms of behavioral molecules.

Too often, we are rather dismissive of small things. However, that is like being dismissive of atoms, which are the building blocks of the entire created universe.

To do small, but good things, is to participate in the creation of the universe. It is to live out our humanity as the images of God.

Jesus said that even giving a cup of cold water or visiting someone who was sick or in prison was important and would receive a glorious reward. Jesus was apparently into beeds.

So, let me ask you an important question: What needs can you create and string together today?

As I was writing this post, I got word that my mother-in-law just passed away. It was a long and bitter battle for her. I loved my mother-in-law. Still do.

Several of my friends have picked up the phone when I’ve called. When they couldn’t, they soon called me back. Picking up a phone a very small beed, but it just goes to show you how important and meaningful even a small beed can be.

Let’s all string some beeds today. What do you say?

“Is God Allergic to You?”

Some of us may feel as if God is allergic to us. Yes, I often feel that way myself.

A friend of me did an online post in which he noted that his rescue cats, once their new master had earned their trust, would climb in his lap and purr contentedly.  My friend concluded with a challenge to his readers to trust our Heavenly Master who has rescued us, and to be contented with what God gives us.

Contentment doesn’t come easily for me.  Sometimes, it doesn’t come at all.  I needed to hear about my friend and his cats.  And, of course, I can never hear too much about God’s provisions.

One of the comments from a reader of my friend’s post was, “I’m allergic to cats.  I sure hope God isn’t allergic to me!”  My feline mind immediately jumped off the lap, and began to play with the notion of God being allergic to us.

There are some theologians who say that God is so holy that he can’t stand human sins, that God is, as it were, allergic to human wrongdoings.  Perhaps they are right.  I know that these thinkers are trying to safeguard the holiness of God, and also point out the deadly seriousness of sin.  Points well taken!

However, this doesn’t mean that God is allergic to either sin or to us.  According to the writer of the Gospel of John, Jesus was God who had come in the flesh.  According to the New Testament, Jesus was God crawling into small, nasty cages to rescue us.  Some of us bit him a lot in the process.  He knew that we didn’t know any better.

And, according to all the Gospel writers, Jesus seems to have hung around with sinners.  Good thing.  We all are sinners—especially those of us who are pretty sure we’re not especially sinful sinners.

So, if God isn’t allergic to us, and if he is a most trustworthy of Rescuers and Masters, we should probably crawl up on God’s lap and purr contentedly.  Don’t worry: It’s a big lap.  There’s plenty of room.

“What Am I Hanging On To, and Who Is Hanging On To Me?”

“My soul clings to you;

your right hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:8)

I am trying to learn more about music—particularly classical music.  I now listen fairly regularly to an AccuRadio station called “Classical 101.”

I encountered a violin soloist named Rachel Barton Pine as part of a concerto.  I’m not a huge fan of the violin.  I do not say that proudly.  I feel that it is a failing in me.  But I rather liked Rachel’s playing, so I decided to see if I could find out something about her.  What a fascinating young lady!

She took up the violin when she was three years old, after she heard some older girls playing in church.  She was a child prodigy, the real deal.

But most fascinating of all was her comeback from a horrific injury in a train accident.  Here is the account, as told in Wikipedia (“https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rachel_Barton_Pine, accessed 03-29-2029):

“Metra accident

On January 16, 1995, Pine was severely injured in a train accident in the suburb of Winnetka, where she taught violin lessons.[2][43][44][45][46] As she was exiting a Metra commuter train with her violin over her shoulder, the doors closed on the strap to her case, pinning her left shoulder to the train. The doors, which were controlled remotely and had no safety sensors, failed to reopen, and she was dragged 366 feet (112 meters) by the train before being pulled underneath and run over, severing one leg and mangling the other. Pine was saved by the prompt application of tourniquets by several passengers who disembarked from the train after pulling its emergency brake handles.[43]

She sued Metra and the Chicago and North Western Transportation Company for compensation for her injuries and legal and medical expenses. Metra argued that she made the choice not to extricate her arm from the strap of the violin case due to the value of the instrument, a 400-year-old Amati valued at around $500,000, and thus she carried most of the blame for her injuries. The jury ruled in Pine’s favor.[44] Metra changed its conductor safety procedures following the incident and made other changes to the trains themselves.

Daniel Barenboim, the conductor of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, organized a benefit concert and raised over $75,000 after she was injured.[43] After a two-year hiatus to allow for recovery from her injuries, aided by numerous surgeries and physical therapy, Pine resumed her career.[2]”

I was especially struck by Rachel’s tenacity in not turning loose of her violin!  What would I give a leg not to lose?

And after two years of surgeries and therapy, she resumed her career.  What an amazing lady!

There is a saying, “I’d give an arm and a leg for that!”  For most of us, it is just an expression—and a very exaggerated expression at that.  However, for Rachel Barton Pine, it was literally true.

Is there anything that I would not let go of, no matter what?  Is it worth that much clinging?  Very few things are.  To what or to whom am I clinging?

Jesus?  No, I’m afraid that I am not that intense.  I wish that I were, but I’m not.

But here is the shocking truth: I was apparently so valuable to him that he would not let go, no matter what.  I didn’t cost him an arm and a leg.  I cost him his life.  And so did you.  And so did we all.

Oh, Jesus, I can’t seem to hold on to you, but you can’t seem to let go of me.  Help me to be a good instrument for your concerto performance today.

“DAYBREAK”

It is just before 7:00, and I am already at the university where I teach for a 9:00 a.m. class.  I like to beat the rush hour traffic.  The sun is not up yet, but it is already fairly light out.  I sit on bench.  I can see the downtown section of Cincinnati, the river, the hills of Kentucky.  There is a breeze.  Some roses, some weeds, and some trash are gathered at my feet.  Birds fly over.

I love the early mornings.  However, when you get up at 2:30, 7:00 doesn’t really seem all that early.

And yet, I still struggle with the darkness within.

Darkness comes in many forms.  There is the darkness of my past, of the people I’ve hurt.  There is the darkness of the people who have rejected me.  There are many who seem to believe that I have not changed, that I will never change, that I can’t change.

I think they’re wrong, but I am not sure.  Sometimes, I think that I myself am underselling how much I’ve grown, how much I’ve changed for the better.  At other times . . .

The sun is coming up now over some very large building across the hill.  I need some light for this day, some hope, some peace.

A bird sings.

Zacharias, an aged man with his aged wife Elizabeth, had experienced the darkness of being unable to have a child.  And then, when all hope was gone, they were miraculously given a son.  Zacharias sang a song to his newborn, and the gospel writer Luke wrote it down.  Here is part of the song Zacharias sang to his son:

76       And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;

                        for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,

77         to give knowledge of salvation to his people

                        in the forgiveness of their sins,

78         because of the tender mercy of our God,

                        whereby the sunrise shall visit usfrom on high

79         to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

                        to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

The knowledge of salvation, the forgiveness of sins, the tender mercy of our God, sunrise—that all sounds pretty good.

So, I am listening to the song “God Only Knows” (the version with Dolly Parton), and fighting back the tears.  I’ve already had a good cry this morning, collapsing on the kitchen floor and dissolving in a puddle of tears.  I don’t need to be crying again.  I don’t want to go before my students with red eyes and a sinus headache.

The sun is fighting to rise above the clouds.  I’m going to bet on the sun today.

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