Thomas remembers:

I still can’t believe the bare-faced cheek of it!  Those two boys – who would credit it?  Okay, so some say their mum put them up to it (and they might be right; she has always been ambitious for her sons). But that’s no excuse, really. They are old enough to think for themselves.

And just what were they thinking?!  Perhaps all our minds have gone along the same lines at some time or another (which could explain why we were so angry when he heard what they had asked for) but how could they ask for such a thing now, of all times?  After all he has been saying, and in fact, just spelled out to us again only an hour or two ago?  The more I think about it, the more obscene their request becomes.  What on earth came over them? What were they thinking?!

I don’t know who it was who heard what they had said first.  Like the others, I had seen James and John draw Jesus aside. They were obviously in earnest conversation with him, but who could have guessed that it was this they were asking; for a seat next to him when he came into his Kingdom, one on his right and the other on his left. 

 What cheek!  And where did that leave the rest of us?  And what right did they think they had to usurp us like that?  Perhaps there are some of us better qualified or more deserving?  Maybe we had all hoped for but never dared ask for the same thing, but their manoeuvring and grabbing for power felt like a stab in the back. It was a betrayal. They wanted one up on us, and when we found out we were livid! We rose with a united voice of disbelief and fury.  Each one of us was at first dumfounded, then fuming with indignation.

No wonder Jesus had to step in and calm us down.  He knew that what the brothers had asked for, we each longed for secretly.  So, we all had to hear his answer. We had to learn to understand that this was not the way of his kingdom. For some time, we had been trying to get our heads round the fact that Jesus really was talking about turning the world upside down.  Actually, as he saw it, he was really aiming to turn the world the right way up again.  Either way, we had to get used to thinking about things completely differently.  That is never easy, so Jesus took this opportunity to set things out plainly and underline them once again.

‘That is not the way it is in my kingdom’, he told us.  ‘In this world, as you know, the rulers lord it over you – they use their position to demand privilege and power.  They expect lesser mortals to bow to them and serve them. It is just the way it is.  But not in my kingdom!

“Where I rule among you, it just cannot be like that.  I say, if you want to be great then you must be the greatest servant.  And if you want to go further and be the No. 1 man, then actually you must become the slave of everyone. My rule involves a totally different way of being great.

“Learn from me; I don’t boss you around, do I?  And I didn’t come to be served by you or anyone;  I came to serve and to give my life for you, like a ransom paid to buy you out of slavery, so that you can be free. 

‘Soon you will see what this means.  You will see the fearful cup that I must drink and the bloody baptism I must undertake.  And, believe me, it is not at all going to be what you think and expect.  Just the opposite, I suspect.’

It was then that I remembered what Jesus had told us earlier in the day about what would happen to him. He was repeating words he had said before, that day at Caesarea Philippi. They were not words I found easy to take in and digest. For my mind, how could the Messiah, God’s promised and anointed one, ever suffer and be condemned?  How could he ever be handed over to the gentiles and mocked and abused, spat on and killed?   That just could not happen!  It made no sense at all!  How on earth was that ever going to save us and restore Israel to power as we all knew the Messiah would?  

As far as I was concerned, Jesus was talking nonsense. He’d got things all muddled and the wrong way round. But, still, he was heading for Jerusalem with such a firm resolution. The rest of us felt such a dark foreboding. Many who had followed quaked with fear and quit.

“God forbid that this should happen to you!”, Peter had spoken for us all.

“But this must happen!” Jesus insisted. “I must face this. It is the Father’s way.

“If I am to be lifted above you, it is in quite a different way to what you expect. If I am to wear a crown, it will be a very different kind of crown. Just you wait and see.  And when you see it, then perhaps you’ll understand and remember all you have heard me say today.”

Looking back and thinking it over, James’ and John’s ambition seems even more outrageous and obscene in the light of what Jesus had said already. But at least they had the guts to take the step and ask the question, believing that Jesus is about to come into his kingdom.  As for me, I hope it is true.  I see he is determined to see this through. Without doubt, He is headed for a showdown of some kind in Jerusalem.  But I am afraid.  I dread to think what the ransom price he must pay will be.

It is not a cup I‘d ask for, nor a baptism I’d be in a hurry to request but, if it really is what he says it will be, then I am prepared to go to Jerusalem and die with him. 

scroll down for earlier posts

Feeling hard done by, a young lad who had tried so hard to be good, shares with us his frustration at Jesus…

Why?  Why did he have to ask so much? Anything else, and I am sure I would have given it to him!  But then, how can I talk of ‘anything else’ – how can there be an ‘anything else’ when he asked, quite simply, for everything?  Everything!

I walked away in utter despair, reeling at the impossible high jump Jesus had set me,

Shocked and angered by his greed.   Hadn’t I given enough already?  Every day I sought to fulfil the letter of the law with all its demands: giving the right offerings, making the right sacrifices, honouring God, the priest and the poor.  I’d done right by him …

but did that count for anything? No!  He still demanded more.

That was hard, don’t you think? 

No recognition of donations given so far, just a further demand to give it all!

It was just too much.  Too much for him to ask.  And too much for me to take.

I walked away, my head spinning, completely at a loss to know what to think.

But I did catch a quick look at some of his followers as I left. I could see the questions in their eyes too.  More than questions; there was shock and bewilderment there too.  I wonder what he said to them when I had gone?  And could they accept it any easier than I had?

After we spoke, I went to find my way to a quiet place, out of the city. I always like to sit out in the hills to think. Rumour has it that Jesus did the same too.

For some reason, it was incredibly busy on the main street, so I headed instead to a small pedestrian entrance I know, called ‘the eye of the needle’.  It’s a good route to know about… a handy short cut for non-commercial traffic.   The gate there, you see, is so small you can’t get much through it.  A very skinny, unladen donkey might make it through, I suppose.  But a camel? that would be difficult!  And a fully loaded camel, packed for travel or trade – simply impossible.

The traders, business men and the wealthy travellers with their big and showy beasts all have to go and queue at the bigger, busier routes. Only those who travel light, without baggage and trappings, can get through the needle.  Everybody knows that – or so I thought until today!

I could not what I saw!  It was so funny, I almost thought it a Godsend to shake me out of my despondency!  In the crowd, a rich man I know well (a rather pompous business associate of the family, as it happens) was making a right spectacle of himself. 

He was fuming!  It seems he’d been sat in the traffic jam at the main gate, obviously put out by the beggars queuing beside him.  (Not the usual company he liked to keep – that’s for sure!  They made him feel uncomfortable.)  Then, can you imagine his face when the gate keeper called the poor beggars ahead of him?  They, you see, carried nothing, so the guards pointed them to the Needle gate.  They were through in no time, probably home before you could say it; while he was left waiting, queuing in the crowd and heat. You could see the colour rise to his cheeks, and then a look of grim determination settled on his face; He was not going to be outdone.  So, he kicked his camel, and pulled it round to follow where the men had gone.

The camel stalled, as you can imagine, refusing even to try to do such a stupid thing as go through that tiny gap.  But the man kept hollering, and screaming, and kicking and whipping till he was blue in the face! And still the animal would not move.  Could the fool not see the impossibility of it? 

No matter how determined he was, he could not get through that tiny gate.

None of his pomp, none of his posturing, could get him through.

And (even if that was the way he was used to things working normally) his money just could not buy him a way through, either.

I thought, what a fool!  It was clear to everyone watching (and there were several of us highly amused by the spectacle) that it was not just going to be hard, but impossible to get that camel through the eye of the needle.  And yet, I mused, it was probably easier for that to happen than for this rich man to see any sense!

At that thought I froze; realising that if I laughed, I laughed at myself.

All this Tom-foolery I was witnessing before my eyes – well, how was I any different?

Hadn’t I, in my own way, thought I could buy my way through… Not the Eye of the Needle, but the way into God’s kingdom?   If not with my riches, then with

credits earned for good behaviour, brownie points for religious observance, gold stars awarded for acts of kindness and charity. Surely this amounted to something?

But suddenly I saw that it doesn’t work that way.  My whole approach had been wrong from the outset – which is why Jesus spoke as bluntly as he did. 

Everybody was taken aback when he questioned the way I addressed him. ‘Why do you call me good?’ He demanded. ‘There is no-one good but God’.  I realise, now, that this was not just an abstract theology lesson.  Jesus was questioning the very basis upon which I judged anything ‘good’ — the way I might even have thought myself ‘good’.   If there is no-one who is good but God, then why do I go on bending over backwards trying to be good?  It’s impossible!  

And, surely, the key is not to be good, but to be godly; and that is a wholly different thing.  It’s not about trying to do the right things and win approval, but about throwing my whole trust and confidence on his mercy alone. It’s not about putting my trust in any goodness of my own, but relying on his.  It’s about living in relationship with the one who is good, so that maybe something of his goodness will rub off on me.

For that to happen, nothing else can be allowed to get in the way.  I have to let go of relying on myself, or finding my security in anything I can do or own. I have to trust myself completely to the good and perfect God.  For me, because I am possessed by great riches and, I have to admit, great pride, that might well mean taking the radical action Jesus asked of me.  To give it all away, let go of my self-dependence – to unload, so that I enter through the narrow gate to life.

I remember the fool, trying to buy his way through.

So loud, so pompous, so funny and so futile.

He could push and shove, shout and curse just as much as he liked, but it doesn’t work that way –the camel of the rich man was too heavily loaded to fit through the eye of the needle. He was attempting the impossible task.

I see that now.

And with it I see again the eye of the Saviour as he gazed at me before I turned away;

His eye, full of sadness and compassion; His heart, bleeding for me as I dared to tell him he asked too much.

But he wasn’t being greedy, was he?  He was being real!  Saying it like it is!

We can only go through the eye of the needle unloaded, unburdened, empty handed.

That’s why he demands everything, isn’t it?  Because none of that is necessary and none of it counts. It simply gets in the way.

That look he gave me set me wondering just how much I have to lose by holding on to my life, rather than giving it away.  Didn’t Jesus say something about that once?  It’s part of his crazy idea that it’s better to give than to get, that it is in giving that we receive, that in dying we are born to eternal life. It’s part of living in his crazy upside-down world in which the first will be last and the last will be first. The madness of his Kingdom!

But after what I witnessed today, I have to ask myself just who it is who crazy – and whether it’s his world or mine that is truly upside down.

Lord

There are no half-measures with you

You give your all

You demand our all.

It seems too much – how can you ask this of us?

But, then again, how can we ask so much of you?

Lord, help us to focus

not on our own wealth (to whatever extent we think we may or may not have it),

But on the richness of your grace.

Teach us to trust not in our own goodness, but in yours alone.

Fix our minds not on your demands,

But on your self-giving love.

Perhaps only then will be free to give as you give.

Perhaps only then will we understand the way of your kingdom, and willingly give our everything.

Interpretive Note: 

Jesus’ saying about the eye of the needle is widely contested.  The tradition that there was a gate in the walls of Jerusalem goes back a long way, but others argue there is no evidence that such a gate existed.  The naming of the small gate in the picture above might have gained its name from the phrase, rather than given it . However I found it helpful in this instance. But also acknowledge that the word ‘camel’ might be a mistranslation from a similar word meaning a thick rope, like those used to tie up ships in harbour.  That would be impossible to get through the small gap in a needle and is the kind of ridiculous hyperbole Jesus would draw.  Then again, He could have equally drawn up the daft contrast between the largest animal around and the smallest gap.  A camel through the eye of a needle: that works too!

Jacob (A made up name for one of the many un-named followers of Jesus who drifted away in increasing number the closer Jesus led them to Jerusalem) speaks of how hard following Jesus can be.

Some of the things that Jesus says are just so blunt and uncompromising that they’re – well – just plain scary!

Like when he said it is better to drown with a stone round your neck than to cause one of his ‘little ones’ to stumble!

Or when he refused to give even an inch on divorce – calling those who divorce and re-marry ‘adulterers’.   See what I mean?  No compromise there. Some might say, no compassion either.  They’d be wrong, but I know what they mean. Even Moses allowed for divorce in some circumstances – but Jesus blamed that on our hardness of heart.  Ouch!

And then, there’s that time we all got into trouble for refusing to allow the children to come to him.  He said – can you believe it? – that the Kingdom of heaven belongs to them!   More precisely: them and those who become like them!  I mean, who would want to become like a child – worthless, insignificant and expendable?  Not me: I’d never want to be that small and vulnerable ever again! But Jesus said we must or we will never enter his kingdom.  He asks such a lot, don’t you think?

And then there was that rich man – and a good man at that – but Jesus told him to give away everything that he owns! Everything!  How hard is that, I ask you?  Well, ok… we have given up everything to follow him, as Peter said – but that’s the point, you see.  Jesus expects nothing less!  

In his kind of living, everything is turned upside down. Those who are now said to be first will be considered last and those who are now last will come first.  The small a powerless ones ones, women who can be abandoned at whim, the youngest, the poorest, the most vulnerable and most marginalised in society … they come first!  And not only must we be prepared to give to them in magnanimous acts of charity (like that rich man often did, I tell you) he says we must actually become like them – in utter humility, joining them in having nothing left to give!

How can he ask so much? 

But he does, doesn’t he?! 

And now he is making it clear that he not only asks all this of us, he asks it of himself. 

It’s not just idealistic talk; he intends to put it into practice. We are going to Jerusalem and he will be handed over to be mocked and condemned and killed.  That’s what he says will happen. His steely-eyed expression indicates that he means every word of it.  He will sacrifice everything for the sake of the Kingdom.  

That’s why it’s so scary.   He means to live and die like this.  

And, it seems, he means for us to do so, too.

Andrew makes an embarrassed confession…

To be honest it was just a bit of banter that went too far – a macho game of one-upmanship that got out of hand.  Soon we were arguing heatedly about who was the greatest, each one of us making wild claims for ourselves while pulling the others down. Looking back now, it was nothing to be proud of – but I’ll tell you just the same.

In our defence, I will say that it was all bravado.  A growing sense of unease had crept in, ever since it dawned on us just where this journey was heading.  The road had taken an unexpected turn and Jesus set us on a course that troubled us all.   We didn’t want to let on that we were anxious, so we acted up to prove we were okay with it.  And while we may have begun with the best of motives, hoping to spur each other on, soon our lurking fears got the best of us. Tetchiness led to insult and offence led on to full blown argument. Childish, I know, but we were all determined to prove that we were the best.

Perhaps it all got out of proportion when Peter and John, with the smug air of those who were in on a secret the rest of us weren’t, looked at each other with a roll of their eyes and then reminded the rest of us how useless we had been when it came to driving the demon out of that poor boy.  That really stung!  The pain of failure was still very raw.  At least we had been there to give it a go, while they were off gallivanting up the mountain with Jesus!  What makes them think they are so special? If they won’t tell us what happened up there, then what right have they got to be all high and mighty about it?  And the way John jibed at Peter, so that Peter fell quickly silent and took all defensive like, made me think that things didn’t go all that well for him up there either.

So, we argued – just like little school children – trying to cover our own inadequacies by boasting all the louder.  Pathetic, I know.  At least, I know that now, after Jesus well and truly put us all in our place.

When we got back to Capernaum and found a safe place indoors, Jesus turned to us directly and asked what we had been arguing about on the road.  He knew, of course, for he had clearly overheard; but he wanted us to admit it. Not that any of us would. Churlish and embarrassed, none of us said a word.

So, he came right out with it, confronting us squarely whilst saying that whoever wants to be first must put himself last and stoop to be a servant to everyone else.

You really could not put it plainer! But, as if to reinforce the importance of what he was saying, Jesus took a small child and made him stand in front of us.  He moved to stand behind the embarrassed boy, resting gentle hands on his shoulders to set him at ease (and to reassure him that he was not the one in trouble; we were)

‘Whoever welcomes one of these small children in my name,’ Jesus said, sweeping his gaze to look each one of us firmly in the eye, ’welcomes me.  And whoever welcomes me, welcomes the one who sent me.’

Now, that was harsh.   There he was, you see, putting us firmly in our place. ‘You want to argue who is the greatest, do you?  Well look…’ he said, placing his hand on the small boy’s head – ‘…this is me!’

That really cut deep – all our pomp and glory-seeking exposed for exactly what it was.  And if the child felt discomfort at being made the centre of attention, we felt far worse for ever having sought it for ourselves.

Of course, the child was not insignificant to Jesus, far from it. We may not have counted children for much, but Jesus certainly valued them. He invested that child – every child – with such dignity as he said, ‘Welcome a child and you welcome me.’

But that wasn’t the main point that Jesus was making.  By standing the child in our midst, Jesus was challenging our deeply held views about what made for greatness.  It is not in one-upmanship. It is not in social standing. It is not in being the biggest, strongest, richest or brightest – the child was none of these things.  Jesus turned all that around.  True greatness, he was saying, is rooted in vulnerability. It is discovered in dependence and honed in humility. You cannot be great unless you acknowledge your smallness. And true greatness is measured, not by how many servants you have, but in how willing you are to serve.

To be honest, I am still trying to get my head round that!  It is so counterintuitive and the very opposite of how things work in the real world … or, at least, the world as we have known it until Jesus began opening our eyes to his new way of seeing things.

Mind you, so much of what Jesus is saying these days is difficult and hard to take get you head round.  On our journey, before the argument, Jesus had been telling us again about how ‘The Son of Man’ would be handed over and suffer and be killed.  No-one dared come back at him after the tongue-lashing he gave Peter the last time. But none of us liked it. None of us understood it.

What kind of crazy kingdom is he thinking about where the first must be last, where the Lord must be vulnerable and insignificant as a child, and where the Messiah must suffer and die?

For reflections of the transfiguration itself, please scroll down to earlier post Mark 9.

Here John reflects as he comes down to earth with a bump!

I don’t know which of them looked the most downcast and frustrated: my fellow disciples, the crowd gathered around, the poor boy’s father or Jesus himself.

Actually, I don’t even know what my face looked like in that moment either, but I guess it must have been a mirror image of Peter’s. His expression carried all the marks of someone who had been brought down to earth with a bump!  As we came down from the mountain, heard the shouting and began to realise what it was all about, I watched the lingering glow of excitement simply wiped from his face.  No surprise – I felt exactly the same.  What an unbelievable comedown!  From witnessing the heights of glory to …this?!

As we drew close, we could see that the others from our group were taking a harsh verbal beating from the teachers.  All as one, they were cowering before the tirade, looking utterly bewildered and totally defeated.  What was going on?

Of course, when they saw Jesus, they were delighted and ran to him in relief, like children to hide in their mother’s skirts.  But there was a certain coyness about them too.

‘Ok, lads, what’s this all about?’ Jesus demanded. But no-one got to reply before a furious member of the crowd stepped forward and loudly dobbed them in. 

Their accuser, it turned out, was the man at the very centre of the dispute.  And I’m sure you will understand his fury and frustration when I explain why.  He had come looking for Jesus, you see, bringing his son in desperate need of healing.  The boy could not talk. He also had frequent seizures; foaming at the mouth, gritting his teeth, going rigid all over as the demon inside threw him to the ground.  ‘I asked your disciples to help him,’ he cried, ‘and they could not!’

Well, now I understood the frustration all round … the despair in the father’s eyes … the bewildered defeat in the eyes of my brothers.  Instantly, I understood their confusion: Jesus had sent us out and, in his name, we had cast out demons by the score… so what went wrong today?  I joined them in wondering; why now did they hit the wall and fail?

Much to everyone’s surprise, it was now Jesus’ turn to get frustrated.  ‘How unbelieving you people are!’ he blurted out. ‘How much longer must I put up with you?!’ 

‘Bring the boy to me!’ he snapped, and as soon as they did the spirit threw the youngster into a fit. He started rolling around on the floor, frothing at the mouth as his father had described.

When Jesus enquired how long the boy had suffered like this, the father answered, ‘All his life!’ Parental agony crept into his voice as he told Jesus about the boy regularly being thrown into fires or any kind of deep water, as if the demon were trying to kill him. ‘Have pity on us and help us.’ he pleaded. ‘…if you can.’

‘What’s all this ‘’If you can’’ business?’ Jesus taunted.   Of course, the man had been disappointed once already this day, but Jesus was not going to let him give way to such self-pity. ‘I can help you – if you can help yourself.  It’s all possible – you’ve just got to believe it’

‘I do believe – but not enough’ was the man’s honest reply. ‘Help me!’ 

And Jesus did.  

He ordered the spirit to leave and out it came screaming!  The boy fell to the floor as if dead. In fact, everyone thought he must be dead – except Jesus, of course, who took him by the hand and helped him get up and stand.  And that was it.  Job done at last.

Except Jesus wasn’t finished yet.

He may have been firm with the Father, but he was so frustrated with the teachers and with us. We were the unbelieving ones he had simply had enough of.  We were the ones that caused his temper to flare.

Safely indoors and later, we finally dared ask him what had gone wrong. Why were things getting harder now?  Why, having been able to cast out all kinds of demons before, could we not do it this time?

His answer was ambiguous.  Some of the lads think that when he said ‘this kind only comes out by prayer’ he meant that this was a special type of demon – a kind we had not met before that needed special attention.  Others thought it meant they had not prayed long and hard enough, or that they didn’t use the right words when trying to deliver the boy.  I, however, suspect it was something simpler.  I believe that Jesus meant exactly what he said; you have got to pray to drive this kind out.  

Knowing my friends as I do, I have a feeling that they did not stop to pray at all.  I think that, in the flush of all their earlier success, they just assumed it would happen again.  They thought that they could do it, and so they got on and did it.  And that’s when they found out that they couldn’t do it.  These demons only come out through prayer. 

It seems to me that my brothers had taken it for granted.  They thought it was a power they had in themselves – a gift under their own control and to be exercised at their own bidding. How wrong could they be?!  Their previous success had led them to trust in themselves and forget their dependence on God.  So, they jumped to action, but failed to pray, and therefore they failed altogether.

Prayer, I would suggest, is not a pious exercise or the uttering of a few holy words.  Prayer is about living in spiritual dependence upon God.  That’s what Jesus called for from the boy’s father – and when that man admitted he didn’t have enough faith and asked for help, he was expressing this humble dependence in the simplest and most profound form of prayer.

With that tiny mustard seed of faith an immovable mountain was removed from his life, leaving no more risk of an avalanche to bury his son alive!    

So, yes, everything is possible for the one who has faith – even the driving out of terrible demons. But we can’t do it on our own.  We dare not become overconfident. This kind only comes out through prayer.  And that prayer needs only one word: Help!

Lord I do believe, but not enough. 

Help me!

 

Andrew

Sometimes, I wish people would simply do as he asks and keep their mouths shut!

Time after time we have been crowded out of towns and villages.  We can’t go anywhere without people demanding his attention. And once – can you believe it? – they even tore the roof off a house we were in, just to get their friend to Jesus!   It’s all getting quite out of hand!

We have to sneak around secretly, escape in boats, take to the hills and, lately, we have been off on long trips abroad.  Yet, still they find us!  When word gets out that he is around, they come flocking. Not always in ones and twos, either; sometimes in their thousands!

And when that happens, who, I ask, has to think about all the logistics – health and safety, crowd control and catering?  Well, they don’t, do they?  It’s twice now we have been faced with a hungry crowd, miles away from the markets. Did they think about bringing their own packed-lunches?  Oh no!  And who has to sort it all out?  We do!  Jesus insists on it.  

Last time, with the five thousand, we tried to get him to send them away, but he was having nothing of it.  ‘No – You feed them’, he said.  This time, with the crowd almost as big, he drew us aside again, sharing his heart. ‘I feel sorry for them’ he said ‘I’m not sure many of them will make it home without something to eat. So, what can we do about it, lads?  What have we got to offer?’

Not much, I can tell you! Not the first time back home, and not this time, here across the water, either! And, to ask us to do the impossible one time was enough in itself, but twice?!  He was really pushing it! 

Now, if there is one thing I have learnt in the last day or so, it is that these people here – for all their posh cities and proud Roman culture – are just as bad as God’s chosen people when it comes to looking out for themselves!  We both share the same predicament; we get hungry.  Hungry for food and even hungrier for God.

This explains why the crowds come flocking, I guess.  But I have to admit, I was especially surprised about this particular crowd.  I mean, how had they even heard about Jesus?  What whetted their appetite so much that they carelessly flocked out into the desert to find us here?   I can understand the crowds at home; everyone is talking about him there. But here?  How had word reached them here?  And why were they so interested anyway, them being Gentiles and self-styled Romans at that?

On the other hand, why should they be any different to us?  Who would not be amazed by Jesus?  The man he healed the other day certainly was. So were the people who came with him. 

This man was deaf and couldn’t really speak.  All that came out of his mouth were incoherent noises.  Jesus led him away from the watching crowd and gently put his fingers in the man’s ears and then spat and rubbed saliva on the man’s tongue.  Looking up to heaven with a deep sigh he said to him ‘Ephphatha!’ (That’s a word worth remembering, isn’t it?)  ‘Ephphatha!  Be open!’  And instantly the man could hear and speak, clear as anything!

I don’t blame him for wanting to tell everyone about it, do you?  If you have not been able to speak for so long, and then God gives you a voice, it’s only natural to want to tell everyone about it, isn’t it?  (Even if the first thing your newly opened ears hear is; ‘Don’t say a word to anyone about this!’  Like red rag to a bull, that is!  We are all the same: asked to keep a secret, we just burst to share it. Telling us not to tell anyone might just be the surest way to make sure that we do!)

Mind you, there was a very good reason why we didn’t want our presence announced too loudly in this area.  Last time we were here in the region of the Ten Towns, we found ourselves in quite some bother.  We ended up being deported immediately, which, while embarrassing, was quite a lot better than some of us feared!  Those farmers were mighty angry at the loss of so many pigs. I am sure that the only thing that stopped them from stoning us there and then was the sight of that previously possessed man, sitting calmly and quietly besides us.  He was out of his chains, which made them cautious.  But he was no longer out of his mind, which filled them with awe and curiosity.  Well, it would have done, were it not for the horrific sight and sound of all their squealing pigs drowning in torment.  Stunned by the spectacle, they asked us, politely but firmly, to leave.  Who knows what their reaction would be if they knew we had returned?

Well now we know! 

They came to find us, all right.     And yes, I did feel apprehensive as they gathered. You’ll understand my wondering if any of them still wanted to string us up for what happened last time.  

But, thankfully, that’s not why they came.

They seem to have had a complete change of heart.  Then they had wanted us away as quickly as possible; now they lingered far too long for their own good.  And they were hungry. So hungry!  Not for our blood; but for Jesus.

How and why the change came about, I could not imagine.  Until, that is, I saw him;  the man we met up with last time we were here.  

He was easy to spot in the crowd, still as huge as ever and marked by the tell tail scarring of self-harm.  And yet his demeanour was now so different – no longer frightening in any way – that he might have been a different person.   But it was, undoubtably, him.  And this transformed human-being was obviously loved and accepted by the legion of people he now led out to meet Jesus.

This, I remember now, was the one-man Jesus did not ban from talking about him.  Quite the opposite, in fact.   The man had begged to come with us but Jesus would have none of it.  As we left him on the harbour-side, Jesus had said to him ‘Go back!  Go back home and tell your people how good God is’. 

And that, apparently, is exactly what he did!   He travelled throughout the Ten Towns, telling his story, telling everyone about Jesus, telling of his own experience of God’s goodness.  And now, in result, here he was leading them all out to meet Jesus themselves!

And – do you know? – despite all my complaining, I’m really quite glad! 

Because of his talking, I have seen something really quite remarkable.  When Jesus took the seven loaves we offered (just like he took the five we had to give him a few short weeks ago) he went on to multiply them to feed another four thousand people.  An amazing miracle!  Again!

And look! We collected seven massive baskets full of left-overs!  We’ve got no food worries now.  No-one is going to go hungry around here for quite some time!

Two days later

Erm…. I’m not sure that I want to tell you this next bit of my story.  If I’m honest, I think I have to, but I’d really rather not. 

You see – can you believe it? – when we left by boat the next day, no-one thought to load up the bread!  We left all those baskets of food behind!  Except, that is, for one measly loaf we found tucked under one of the benches.

When we first realised, we were not all that bothered.  We laughed incredulously at our foolishness, but saw no real reason to worry. Our first port of call was just across the water in Dalmanutha.  We could get food there.  

Except …we couldn’t.  We were met at the quayside by a reception party of Pharisees demanding that Jesus gave them a sign, just like he did in the Decapolis.  Jesus just said ‘You’re not getting one’ and had us back in the boat immediately.  So, no food there!

We sailed away, still with only the one loaf between us.  How was that ever going to be enough to feed all of us hungry people?  Our grumbling tummies were guiding our thinking, so when Jesus mentioned something about the ‘yeast of the Pharisees’, all we heard was the word ‘yeast’ as we fixated on the desire to have some to make bread of our own!  We started talking about that, which must have sounded quite incongruous to Jesus.  He was trying to give us an important warning, and all we could do was talk about baking!   He went silent for a while, trying to make sense of our ramblings.  When he cottoned on to what we were saying, he let rip in total exasperation.

‘Don’t you get it?’ he cried ‘Not even now?!  Remember how I broke the five loaves for the five thousand?  How many baskets of left overs did you pick up?’

‘Twelve,’ we answered. 

‘And when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand?’

‘Seven’, we replied.  

‘And you, with your one loaf for … just how big a crowd have we managed to squeeze into this little boat?!    You still don’t get it, do you?”

Well, no we didn’t! 

In truth, he was right to say we had hearts of stone.  Our eyes were shut and our ears blocked.  In fact, come to think of it, we were no better off than the deaf man they brought to Jesus just a few days ago.  Except now it was us talking incoherently!   And why?  Because we could not hear and understand anything Jesus was trying to teach us!

I wonder what it will take to heal us, so that we can hear clearly?   

And what will it take to loosen our tongues so that, without hesitation, we go and tell the world just how good God is?

A mother shares her story

(This is my second post on this same reading – see also previous post ‘Foreign things’ )

He wasn’t going to get away with that put-me-down, and he knew it!

Did he think that, after sticking my neck out so far already, I’d just turn and run?   No way!    There were bigger things at stake.  My daughter needed help and I believed that he had the power to give it.  So, I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.  I was going to press on regardless.

Now, don’t get me wrong:  I had great hesitations about going to see him.  I stood an awful long time before I knocked on the door and, even then, I almost turned and legged it before anyone answered.  But where would that have got me?  How would that have helped my darling daughter?  I’d have been saved embarrassment, may be, but she would still be tormented.  And so would I.  If I had not taken the chance… if I had not tried, at least… then how could I have lived with the knowledge that I had failed her?

And don’t go thinking I didn’t know he might reject me.  I knew alright!  I am not a Jew.  I don’t follow the God that they do.  But if he is half the god they say he is – kind, compassionate and, above all, a powerful deliverer – then I was a going to give him a try!  Theirs is exactly the kind of deity I was in need of.  Only a god like that could save my daughter.  So I pressed on.

To be honest, I was not surprised by his retort: ‘It’s not for you, it’s for the children!’   Shocking? Yes, but that’s exactly what I expected him to say.  What did surprise me, however, was the way that he said it.  It didn’t feel like a rebuke to me.  More like a challenge … offering hope. His words were careful, talking of a plan and a purpose that began with his people.  But he did not say that it ended with them!  ‘The children eat first’ – OK.  But who will eat next? 

So he called me ‘a dog’? – who cares!  Could I really argue?   I had come into the house as a scavenger.  There was no place laid at the table for me.  I am not family; I do not belong.   But even the dogs get the scraps, and the scraps were good enough for me.  The food he had to offer, if the rumours were correct, was so special that I’d be happy with just that.

You see, all I needed was for my daughter to get better.  My only request was for one small child to be released from hell.  One small, special child.  My child.

I brought my appeal for her sake, not mine.  For her and her alone, I stepped right out of my comfort zone -way beyond the norm – risking huge disappointment and rejection but not allowing the fear of that to put me off.  Love and compassion drove me.  That’s something I believed he would understand.  Why? Because, I’m certain, that’s exactly what drives him.     

And, thankfully, I was proved right.

I have sat by her bedside all through the night, just watching her…  Her face, so calm … her sleep so restful and deep.   For the first time in years there were no screams and nightmares.  She is at peace.  The torment has gone.  And I have got Jesus to thank for that.

He has gone now, too.  Back to his home – to Israel, and the people he is called to serve first.  But he will be back soon, I reckon.  If not in person, he’ll send his followers, for certain.   His love can’t be just for one group of people.  It’s bound to spill out and touch so many.  It will keep on overflowing, till it reaches the very ends of the earth.

He’s proven that to me, anyway.

Syria;  

Lebanon;

Countless far-off, forgotten and foreign places

Where un-named mothers cry their hearts out for their children;

Lord, be there today.

And not just with breadcrumbs

But with the full feast of life.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Simon the Zealot, so called because of his extreme nationalist leanings, describes a life changing moment:

To be honest, I was a bit wary about our journey up north into Phoenicia. I don’t much like these foreign parts, with their foreign food and foreign ways.  Given my own choice, I’ll stick to my own country, culture and cuisine any day. And why not? What do the others have to compare?  We, after all, are the chosen race – Israel – the people of God.  His Temple, the Holy Place, is in Jerusalem.  From there he will rule the world.  So, I don’t have much time and truck for other places. Let them come to us, I say!  That is, surely, the right way for things to be.

So, I felt quite ill at ease as we made our way over the border and up towards Tyre. 

At least we didn’t head for the big city itself – far too many people there for our purposes at this time.  Instead, we were bound for a secluded cottage Jesus had heard about by the sea.   Escape had eluded us at home, so we had to try further afield. And this should have made a perfect place for a retreat.  We assumed that none of the neighbours (not that there were many) would be interested in bothering us; most likely they would keep their distance from strangers.  What’s more, we made every effort to arrive there quietly and unnoticed, stealing into the house and shutting the door.  No crowds followed us here, thank goodness!  Peace at last!

But, of course, it was too good to last!  We were just settling down for a relaxing evening together when there came a knock at the door.  You could hear the sighs and see disappointed shoulders drop all round the room.  Nobody wanted to be the one to get up and let them in, and I wasn’t the only one who felt wary as well as frustrated by the disturbance.  Who would have known we were here?  It could only be the locals, and what would they want with us?  But Jesus gave the nod that we all expected from him by now, and we had to let them in. 

Well, not ‘them’, actually; just ‘her’.  That was some small mercy; at least it wasn’t an invasion. But it was an intrusion, and an unwelcome one at that.

She walked in and looked intently around, giving us the once over, as we in turn appraised her.  Dressed in the local costume of the Syrian-Phoenician woman that she was, she stood out like a sore thumb among us.  Everything about her was foreign; her face, her clothing, her stance, her smell, her speech… everything.  I found nothing appealing about her at all.  There she stood; a woman and a foreigner – a nobody.  Why Jesus gave her the time of day at all, I do not know. But she was clearly determined, and he was intrigued at her gall, so we had to hear her out.

Apparently, her daughter was in a bad way, possessed by some demon or something.  

So, evidently, word about Jesus must have already spread here!  Maybe it was some traveller she’d met – they were always passing though Capernaum (it’s on a main road to Damascus) and these traders always delighted in a juicy tale to tell.  Or, perhaps, as we’d heard rumoured, people from these parts did actually travel to Galilee and join the crowds coming to Jesus for healing (Mark 3:8).  In any case, this woman wanted for her daughter what Jesus had given so many at home: Freedom, deliverance, healing and new life. 

Now some soft souls among us might have had sympathy, but “what a cheek”, I thought!  How could this insolent woman expect, let alone demand, anything from our God?  And how glad I was to hear that Jesus agreed with me! 

I had begun to wonder about him, what with the people he took as his friends and now his bringing us out here to foreign parts.  But he was quite clear now.  His rebuke of the woman confirmed his interest in Israel alone.  He was short and curt with her and that, to be honest, made my heart sing!  At last, I felt secure again. Things were as they should be.  The food was not for the dogs: it was reserved for the children only.  Yes!

How she dared to come back at him after that, I just don’t know!  His words were clear and dismissive, but she would not be dismissed.  ‘Yes, but even the dogs get to eat the crumbs under the table!’  she cried. 

At least she knew her place!  But this was one dog I was beginning to have had enough of.  It was getting far too pushy with its scrounging and scavenging.  I’d choose a hard kick to drive it away – but that was not what Jesus decided to do.

I was surprised that this forward, foreign female had managed to turn him so quickly.  I never thought of him as fickle, nor as a soft touch for the women, either.  So, what was going on?  Had I missed something?  Was I mistaken in thinking that Jesus thought about things in just the same way as me?

Thinking back, having slept on it, I realise that maybe Jesus was not as harsh as I first took him to be.   His words were right, but not his tone.  His answer, though short, was not sharp.  Rather than cutting her off, I see now that he was, in fact, inviting her to banter with him.  If I had looked, I bet I would even have seen a twinkle in his eye as he gazed at her.  His gaze conveying things that words could not: “Israel’s Messiah, bringing freedom to a Syrian Greek?!  What a ‘No, No’!”   I can feel the slap of the irony now.  Like it or not, I just knew his answer was going to be a definite ‘Yes!’ 

We’ve all been around long enough to work out that Jesus is definitely not into ‘No, No’s’   He does not care for normal rules, routines, or even rituals. That’s what has been getting him into trouble with our leaders all the time, I keep telling him.  But does he listen?  No!  He will heal on the Sabbath without compunction.  He will reach out and touch the unclean and the untouchables.  All the time he marches to a different drum – ruled not by convention, but compassion; not by the Law, but by Love.

And now he will free this foreign woman’s daughter.  He’s pushing back the boundaries again, undermining the very foundations on which they stand.  One day, he has told us, the walls will fall!    For the moment, he was impressed by this woman and he sent her back home to find her daughter healed. 

I hope she is happy.  I am sure she is.  But I am not at all sure that I am!  As a nationalist through and through, I find what I have witnessed here very disturbing.   Yes, as I have said, the woman rightly acknowledged her place. She accepted, even if in playful banter, that she was a ‘dog’.  She admitted that she had no right to the food reserved for the children.  But she still dared ask for what she did not deserve.  And something told her that Jesus would not refuse her.  

How could she be so confident and sure?

Was it because this woman was driven by compassion, just as she recognised Jesus’ compassion driving him?

Was it because she didn’t come standing on or fighting for her rights; but simply and humbly appealing to his mercy?

Or was it her faith that saw something bigger and greater in Jesus than I, boxed in by my boundaries, still fail to fully grasp? 

I am not sure.

But in the middle of the night, I remembered something that put a new perspective on things for me.   Jesus didn’t say to her that the dogs would not eat – just that the children must eat first.  I missed that little morsel first time round – but the woman, clearly, did not.  And what she heard, clearly gave her hope.  She understood from this that there would be food for the likes of her too. The boundaries will be broken one day and even the dogs will come to join the children to at the table.   Except, they will no longer be seen as dogs then, will they?  They will be children too!

That’s a bigger vision than anything I have seen before.   And maybe it is because Jesus recognised that this woman caught that vision and wanted a share in the coming Kingdom, that he gave her what she asked for here and now?  

In any case, this woman would not accept things as they are, but hoped for something bigger and better.  I think that’s what Jesus would call ‘faith’. 

So, we are off back home today, to the work Jesus has to do there.  But I am beginning to understand that Jesus will respond to this kind of faith wherever he finds it, and from whoever it comes.  He will never despise those who, like this woman, see the possibilities and refuse to be put off by convention; who will pray and pester, struggle and sacrifice for the new thing coming; who are determined to see the Kingdom (as Jesus calls it) breaking into their lives and into their world right here and now.

And with all this talk of food at the table, this woman has shown me one thing I never thought that I’d admit to:  The Great Feast is going to be far bigger than I had imagined!  Nobody who comes in faith will be eating crumbs.  No peoples will be excluded.  There will be room at his table for all. 

Lord, we pray that you will draw us deeper into your purpose and plans.

Stir within us a deep dissatisfaction with what is and kindle a greater yearning for what is yet to be.

Cause us to work and pray more energetically for all that you have in store, not just for us, but for the whole world.

May the light of your kingdom dispel the darkness of our limited imagination.

And, as surprising people of faith challenge our preconceptions,

may narrow minds be blown wide-open by the gospel. 

In Jesus name. Amen

James, the brother of John reflects on the importance of washing your hands, but rebels against the ever present ‘thought police’

I can’t believe it!  They’re at it again – the thought police, the Pharisees!  This time they’re like a bunch of old nannies complaining that we haven’t washed our hands properly!

Well, nah de da de da!  What a thing to get so worked up about! Surely, they have got more important things to worry about?  Or have they?   It’s like they are watching us all the time… and you never know when they are going to pop out of the woodwork with one accusation or another.  All day, every day they are on alert, ready to pounce on Jesus.  It’s getting so tiresome!  You’d think it would be for them, too, because Jesus has sent them packing with their tails between their legs so many times already. But they are obsessed!  Obsessed with Jesus (who they have obviously declared ‘public enemy number one’); obsessed with their stupid laws (which they keep throwing in our faces all the time); and today they are obsessed with us washing our hands!

 My mother used to be like that when I was a child… a right nag about she was about it too.  Ask John – he’ll tell you!  ‘Let’s see your nails and the backs of your hands’, she’d demand and, believe you me, if she judged they weren’t clean enough we’d soon feel the back of hers!  After that, we’d make sure we scrubbed harder next time!   So, yes, we know how to wash our hands.  And when and where we should, too.  Mum taught us well.

So, I can see that it is important … but this fuss? 

‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’ Ma used to say, but they have taken it even further than that: ‘Cleanliness is godliness’ – that’s what they are teaching.  They have made a whole religion out of it!   And because we don’t comply with their petty rules and regulations as they expect, they’ve made us out to be heretics, can you believe it?!   They are very serious about it too.  I wouldn’t put it past them to demand stoning to death just for a little dirt under the finger nails!  It really feels like it’s gone that far!  How absurd!  But you have got to laugh… or else you really, really would cry!

Ok, Ok, I know it is not about dirty fingernails, really.  If it was, it would make more sense. You don’t want extra sand in your sandwiches, do you?!   My Mum was a good teacher so I know all about hygiene. But this is not about hygiene; it’s about tradition.  And this tradition is becoming more poisonous than anything I’ve ever got on my hands, I’d say.

And didn’t Jesus tell them!  Without a moment’s hesitation, he laid into them.  He quoted he prophet Isaiah at them and then said: ‘You have abandoned the commands of God and hold onto the traditions of men instead!’   (No holding back there, then!)

Jesus is obviously sick of it, too; rule after rule, regulation after regulation, ‘do this!’ and ‘don’t do that!’.   Layer upon layer of tradition has wrapped God’s word up and hidden it away so it is no longer recognisable at all!  Jesus just wants to rip all that packing away so we can get to the heart of the matter. But they still insist on it all, don’t they?  It’s clear that they prefer the wrapping paper to the present!  And if anyone dare question their bows and ribbons, then…!

Jesus carried on and tried to show them how they use their traditions to accuse us and strangle-hold others, whilst always finding a loophole for themselves. The hypocrites!  

For example, Jesus pointed out, Moses taught; ‘honour your father and mother’.  He even underlined its importance by ruling the death penalty for anyone who abuses their parents.  So, you and I would think there is not much of a get out for those who neglect their old mums and dads, right?  But they, Jesus accused, have found a clever way of getting round it.  ‘’You think that if you declare that something is ‘dedicated to God’ then it no longer has to be accounted in your ‘income column’ or assets.  That means you can say that you no longer have it to give to your parents when they need it.  But it’s a let out!  A con!’’ he insisted.   And so, it’s not God’s Word they are teaching. In fact, they nullify the Word of God by these man-made regulations… doing just the opposite of what it intends!  And this they are doing all the time, says Jesus.

‘Listen to me and understand this everyone’ he said. ‘Don’t get het up about rituals, rules and religion.  These count for nothing!  It’s not your hands that make you dirty, it’s your heart.  Nothing outside of you can make you unclean.  It’s what comes from deep inside that makes you unclean.’

When we were too dull to understand this straight away, he went on to say, ‘it’s not how or what you eat that matters (whatever all the regulations say).  What goes into the stomach is irrelevant.  That’s not the place of infection.  It’s the heart!  It is in the heart that all evil thoughts are given birth and nurtured.”  

So, he’s taught us, it is by their hearts that people are judged clean or unclean in God’s sight.  Clean hands may be important, but they have nothing on a pure a heart.  You can have the cleanest hands in the whole wide world, and yet have the filthiest heart.   And visa-versa.  I know plenty of working people who have the filthiest of hands, but biggest and best hearts I have ever known!  “It’s this that you should be concerned about”, Jesus says, “not pointless traditions, meaningless symbols, and empty pomp and show”.

I’m beginning to wonder now, if the Pharisees are actually hiding behind all their outward rules and rituals; using them as a smoke-screen because, for some reason, they dare not look at what is hiding in their hearts? 

To be honest, I wonder if I am a bit nervous about looking too deeply inside myself!  

But clear away tradition and get back to God’s word and what do I remember?  What was it that Samuel told Jesse that day when he anointed David as King; ‘People judge by outward appearance, but God looks at the heart’?   Indeed, in David’s own words: ‘What you desire is truth in the inner parts; you teach me wisdom in the inmost place’. (Psalm 51)    

Far from being overly concerned about washing my hands, I go along with David and say, ‘Create in me a pure heart, O God, and put a new and loyal spirit within me.’

Note from the author: I never set out to make this blog follow the lectionary, but some of you have said how helpful it is when it does. Sorry, I’ve strayed a bit this time. To my mind the lectionary does a ridiculous thing this week. It takes the meat out of the sandwich! It does this because it plans to use Johns version of the feeding of the five thousand next week, but I really think that does Marks narrative a dis-service. I believe the whole of verses 30-56 belong together and that is how I’ve dealt with them. The good news is that it may help with your preparation for two weeks!

Philip reflects on an amazing event

      Have you ever been asked to do something impossible?   How did it make you feel?  

      If you are anything like me, your first response will be excitement, quickly followed by bewilderment and perhaps despair.  Excitement because you like a challenge and love to dream: What if, eh?   What if it could be done?  What if you did it?   Wouldn’t that be something!   Then the bubble bursts and you come down to earth with a bump as you realise that what is being just can’t be done.  Not by you.  Not, as far as you know, by anyone.  It’s impossible.  And yes, there is such a word!   And, if someone asks you to do the impossible, then what is really going on? 

Is it some kind of a test, or what?  Hence the bewilderment and then the despair: If you really can’t do what is being asked of you, you’re in a predicament, aren’t you?  Somewhere, deep down inside, you know that things aren’t going to end well!

      Well, that’s how I felt, yesterday.

      The first impossibility we faced was getting away from that crowd.   This really is impossible!  We just cannot shake them off.  They even found us over here, when we had tried to escape by boat, can you believe it?! 

      Wherever we go, they always find us; demanding our time and energy.  Some days we don’t even get time to eat, let alone rest.  That’s why Jesus suggested the boat trip in the first place: he saw that we were flagging and needed some space.  But it didn’t work, did it?   They still discovered our whereabouts us, and flocked to us in their thousands!  And, as usual, there was no chance that Jesus was going to send them packing.  “Look at them, lads,” he said with feeling, “they are like sheep, lost without a shepherd!”  So, he sat down to teach them and we went hungry again.

      The teaching lasted all day and, as the time passed, we became aware of a second impossibility: feeding them!  If we hadn’t had time for food, then neither had the crowd; and some of them had been walking all day to follow us round the lake.  It was clear that, if we didn’t send them off to the surrounding towns and villages soon, their chances of buying anything would be gone.  So, we urged Jesus to do just that.  But do you know what?  The impossible man refused!

      “No!  You give them something to eat!” he demanded.

      Can you believe that?  What was he on about?  Jesus set us not only a logistical nightmare, but a very costly one at that.   Did he really mean us to spend what would amount to half a year’s pay to feed these thoughtless travelers?   For a start, we didn’t have it and for seconds, how we were expected to carry that lot back here anyway?  Impossible!

      “OK, so what have you got?” Jesus asked us again.

      Five bread rolls and two fish; that was all we could find.  Enough to make a reasonable picnic for one or two people, but for this crowd?  Never!    It seemed so pathetically inadequate. And, when he insisted that we sit the people down ready to eat, I felt such hopeless embarrassment.  This had to be some kind of set up, didn’t it?  Some kind of joke or something? 

      But if it was a joke, I sensed it was not one that would go down too well with the crowd.   Picturing our pathetic little offering, I was certain this was going to be a public relations disaster, at the very least.  Perhaps worse.  I don’t like crowds at the best of times; they can be so unpredictable.  I have seen how they can turn in a moment.  And right now, with next to nothing in my hands, I felt so very vulnerable.   It was as though we were being fed to the piranhas; I knew it would only take one to turn and bite and then a feeding frenzy would begin!

      As I went about organizing the crowd in groups as Jesus suggested (50 here, 100 there), I entered a most surreal state of being. Perhaps it was the heightened adrenalin, but my senses seemed to become so much more sensitive.  I could hear almost every breathe and whisper, and then I noticed the colour – so vibrant, so lush.  It was the grass, believe it or not – so green!  I can’t remember the last time I saw it like that.  It only happens for a short period each year; around Passover time; after the spring rains but before the summer sun scorches it brown again.

      “Ha!” I thought, “If these people really were sheep, we’d have no trouble feeding them on this, would we?  They could munch away to their hearts content!”   Perhaps I could wave a magic wand and transform them all into the woolly creatures?  Problem solved!  But where is the genie in the lantern when you need one, eh?   In your dreams, mate!  In your dreams!

      Clicking back to reality, I sensed that the moment had come.  I turned to watch Jesus take the bread, lift it up for heaven’s blessing, then break it and start handing it out to us for distribution.

Sheepishly, we took it and went out into the crowd.  Like lambs led to the slaughter, we said not a word…

      And we were silent again when we returned.  Only not out of fear and resignation this time; we were dumfounded!  Our minds were simply unable to process what had happened.  It was impossible!  And yet all five thousand men, and their women and children, had eaten their fill.  And so had we!  More than that, in our hands, we each carried a basket full of left overs: twelve in all!   How can five small loaves and two fish turn into twelve baskets full of leftovers?!  I just don’t understand.  It just does not happen like that!

       But it did!

      Then, and only then, the impossible man finally decided to send the crowd away!  He dispatched us too, off in the boat, headed for home.  Said he would walk and catch us up later.  He did too – but you are never going to believe me when I tell you where.  We couldn’t believe it either. 

      It seemed as if making any headway against the wind and current was going to be impossible.  We rowed and rowed, but the land seemed just as distant each time we looked up to check.  We were still rowing as it grew dark.  And then, what must have been several hours later, we saw it following us across the water.  Our minds told us it was impossible, such things do not exist, but our eyes told us something different, and our hearts froze.  Yes, we really did think we were seeing a ghost!  And some of us screamed.

      It wasn’t a ghost, of course, but something equally as unnerving, just as impossible.  There, walking on the water, was Jesus. 

       He didn’t put on a show of it.  No theatrics or anything to draw attention to what he was doing.  In fact, he seemed to hardly notice us and went as if to pass by, as though what he was doing was a natural thing to do, deserving no second thought or comment at all!   It was only when he heard our cries of anxiety and bewilderment that he came and climbed into the boat to calm us.

      What on earth was going on?  What does all this mean?   Twice in one day, he has done the

impossible; breaking the laws of nature before our very eyes.  Breaking them as easily as he crumbled the loaves in his hands.  Breaking them as though he has the power to simply do as he will.   I mean, who on earth is this man?   Don’t ask me to tell you.  I just don’t know!  Right now, I find it impossible to even begin to imagine, don’t you?

      But one thing I have been wondering (whether or not this is really possible, I just don’t know):  You know that 100’s and 50’s thing, where Jesus told us to sit everyone down in groups like that?  Well, isn’t that what they Israel did back in the days of Moses, splitting the people into more manageable groups, when God fed his people in the wilderness?   Moses, in his time, had delegated his work to others, just as Jesus delegated to us now.  And later, as his end was near, Moses had prayed to God to provide a successor; Why? So that Israel won’t be ‘like a sheep without a shepherd’!  

As I mused about this, I remembered that Ezekiel picked up on this same shepherd theme. In condemning the leaders of God’s people, he promised a ‘good shepherd’ who, unlike them, would truly care for his people.  And, ‘green grass’ was promised there, too: “There they will lie down in good grazing land, and there they will feed in a rich pasture on the mountains of Israel”. (Ezekiel 34:14)

      Do you see where I am going with this talk of God as a shepherd?  And with thoughts of lying down in good pasture, or on green grass… being fed through God’s provision?  You know the hymn, don’t you: “The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.  He makes me lie down in green pastures…”? That song goes on to tell how he prepares a table, and sets out a banquet…. It’s Psalm 23, isn’t it?  And, suddenly, the feeding I witnessed is linked to one of the greatest expressions of God’s love and support ever written!  

And what Jesus did yesterday, at this Passover time, places his doings in the context of a much bigger story – the story of Gods rescue plan for humanity.  That story comes with the promise that his lost sheep will at last get their Good Shepherd; the true Shepherd of Israel, the Messiah!

      Go on – tell me I am reading too much into this, if you want!  Tell me it’s impossible that this carpenter’s son from Galilee could ever be God’s Anointed One!  Tell me it’s impossible … and I’ll point you back to every impossible thing we have seen in the last day or so; indeed, throughout our whole time with Jesus!  

      I am stunned by what I have witnessed.  But this is the thought that is really troubling my mind today: What if…?  Could it be …?   Is it just possible that Jesus might be the One?

Lord, when was the last time we stopped and truly marvelled at the things you do?

When were we last gob-smacked?  Silenced by awe and wonder?

Surprise us, we pray, with your unexpected power and presence.

Blow our minds away and leave us gasping in wonder.

And let us not be afraid of the new things you want to do in our lives…

Things we may not have thought or imagined possible before.

Help us to keep our hearts and minds open

that we may see your miracles,

your new creation

and your eternal kingdom breaking into our lives and our world.

Amen