LOOKING OUT FOR #1
John 18: 33-37
In his book, JUST LIKE JESUS, Pastor Max Lucado has a chapter
called “Loving the people you are stuck with.” He recounts the story of his
desire to get a puppy for Christmas and his promises to take care of it if he
were to get one as gift. He wanted it really badly. So at Christmas when he was
a child, he received a brown and white Chinese pug, small enough to fit in his
father’s hand and cute enough to steal an 8 year olds’ heart. He named her
Liz. He carried her all day; he took her
to bed with him that night. Even though she smelled like a dog, he loved her;
even though she whined and whimpered, he loved her; even when she had
“accidents” in his bed, well, he still loved her. In what he called his
“prenuptial agreement” to be Liz’s caretaker, he was happy to sign on to give
her food and water, comb her, and clean up after her. He wanted that dog. Then
he went on to say this: “Within a few days, my feelings changed a bit; I grew
weary of her barking, and she seemed hungry an awful lot. More than once my
folks reminded me ‘Take care of her. She is your
dog.’ I didn’t like hearing those words—your dog. [She was mine] in sickness
and in health; for richer or poorer; in dryness and in wetness. That’s when it
occurred to me: The courtship was
over; the honeymoon had ended; we were mutually leashed. Liz went from an
option to an obligation, from a pet to a chore, from someone to play with to
someone to care for. Perhaps you can relate. Chances are you know the
claustrophobia that sometimes comes with commitment. Only instead of being
reminded ‘She is your pet,’ you’re told ‘He is your husband,’ or ‘She is your
wife.’ Or ‘He is your child, or parent, or employee or boss or roommate,’ or
any other relationship that requires loyalty for survival. Such permanence can lead to panic—at least it
did in me,” Lucado said. I had to answer some tough questions. Can I tolerate
the same flat-nosed, hairy, hungry face every morning? (Do you wives know the
feeling?) Am I going to be barked at until the day I die? (Any kids connecting
here?) Will she ever learn to clean up her own mess? (Did I hear an ‘amen’ from
some parents?) [Word Publishing, 1998, p. 13-14] You see, we may find it
convenient to have a man or a woman nearby when we need them, but may balk at
commitment; we may be in love with the idea of having a baby but haven’t
thought far enough down to road to experience the crying, attitude, child
rearing and teenage arguments. In this season, we may love the idea of getting
presents, but not like the hassle or cash outlay of buying them. And as we have
just finished the Thanksgiving holiday, we wonder if Currier and Ives or Norman
Rockwell had any idea what families at holiday time were really like: Holidays
mean putting 1 or 2 or 4 or 12 or more people in a room, sometimes with some
expected ones missing and some unexpected ones present, all of whom have needs
and agendas, and trying to have them get along long enough for a dinner
conversation or family time. In some
homes, the only things that builds a bridge over those troubled waters is
uniting in watching or playing a football game—ah the American way of dealing
with conflict and avoiding issues.
So how do we deal with the fact that we have needs and
desires like a child, but we also have obligations to children, co-workers,
spouses, friends, and parents? Issues of
self-fulfillment need to be balanced with our needs for companionship and
community. When Jesus began his
ministry, he began something so radically different from human nature that many
were troubled by his teachings. Even his
disciples, who dropped their nets and followed him either out of allegiance or
a chance for a new opportunity, had trouble understanding his teachings.
Sometimes don’t we have trouble with radical otherness? A father has an older son who is a
responsible bean-counter, but loyal to the family. The father has a younger son
who asks dad for his inheritance while he is still alive; he goes off and
spends it all and comes back in need. Sensible people say that the oldest son
did the will of the father; but the father runs down the road in his robes and
welcomes home this prodigal son. Have you ever had a thanksgiving when you had
the chance to welcome home a prodigal? Did you do it, or did you close ranks,
turning off the porch light of your heart?
Of the two sons, who was number one in Jesus mind: the Father? The older
son? The younger son? In another Bible
story, the story of the feeding of the 5000, at the end of a long day of
teaching in Galilee, the disciples circle their wagons around Jesus and ask him
do their dirty work: “Send these people away, Lord, for we are hungry and don’t
have enough food for them!” You know the inconvenience of planning
for a certain number at your dinner or wedding reception and having unexpected
guests there ready to eat! And you, like the disciples, might turn to the host
or the caterer or the one in charge and say “Tell them we did not expect them
here.” The disciples turn to Jesus and hissed, “We just have a few loaves of
bread and a couple of fish, what are those among thousands?” And like the
parents that looked at Max and said “Liz is your dog,” Jesus said, “You give them something to eat.” But an
amazing thing happened as the disciples stopped thinking about themselves and
were told to give to others: the gifts multiplied. Not only did the disciples eat, all ate, all shared, and all had some
left over. Many thanksgiving dinners
I have eaten have had that same characteristic: food is bought and prepared and
there is fretting about having enough: but for those who open their table to
those who come unexpectedly, there is food enough and to spare; this year we
ate off of a 14 pound turkey and I had two dinner plates piled high with meat
left the next day. Generosity and hospitality are traits of God’s that we
generally think of as forgiveness and grace;
those attitudes make the world go ‘round if the world will try them. But
the world most often sets us up for selfishness: how about the Friday morning
frenzy at stores: With some stores having the same number of HDTVs to sell as
they had loaves of bread in Galilee, people fell into their worst “me first”
modes, standing in line an insane number of hours, not leaving lines even for
bathroom breaks. What some saw as a party others saw as civilization turned
into temporary savages.
2000 years ago Jesus showed people
radical otherness; some believed in it, some didn’t, some still don’t. The short sighted person sees the
scene of Jesus before Pilate and believes that looking out for number one in
this world is the best policy: if Jesus had just given in to a few bribes and
kickbacks, he would never have faced the torture of the scourging and the
cross. But Jesus was looking out for a different number one: Following God’s teachings, giving glory to
God, and trusting his Father even when human wisdom said not to, Jesus had his
eyes on a different prize: a time when he would indeed be king, not by killing
for it, but by dying for it. “My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus said.
Because of his utter focus on the will of his Heavenly Father, John later wrote
a letter to seven churches and said that “Jesus Christ is the faithful witness,
the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of kings on earth; to Him be glory and
dominion for ever and ever.” The one who was giving glory and honor to his
Heavenly Father in his earthly life received glory and honor from Him in his heavenly life; the one who thought about others on the hillsides of Galilee, the streets of Jerusalem, and the cross of
Calvary received blessings too numerous to count. And those whom society
usually turned away found welcome, all because a Savior asked a collection of
men to follow him. In the end it was
women, children, and wounded ones who grew in faith faster than they. This month we have opportunities to shift from
this world’s number one (self) to the next world’s number one (our Risen Lord).
We can put on the garments of Christ by acts of hospitality and generosity. We can
clutch what we have to our chests in panic, worrying ourselves sick about money
or health or broken relationships. Or, like the powerful lesson learned about
feeding 5000, we try trusting in Jesus enough to share what we have. Many have
testified than when they took that leap of faith, God released countless
personal blessings that had been stored for them in Heaven. They found with
generosity they had enough and to spare. Why not trade in grasping, and try
blessing today?
Now unto Him who loved
unconditionally, sacrificed entirely, and listened unwaveringly to Heavenly
guidance be blessing and honor and glory and power, now and forever. And
joining angels and archangels, the people affirmed it with a rousing AMEN!
Jeffrey A. Sumner