Hear and meditate on the word of the Lord:
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
Showing posts with label guest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guest. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
God is with us ...
We have asked for God to be with us,
And he has answered our prayers in a way
very different than that which we expected.
"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,"
which means, "God is with us."
God does not arrive as a mighty king,
riding a snorting, raring charger.
He is delivered as the precious, helpless child
of a teenage mother whose own people
do not believe her incredible story.
This child is an outcast, not the patron,
not the host, but one needing
hospitality on even his first night
In our world.
A Prayer for Emmanuel
Ruth Duck
Come, Christ Jesus, be our guest,
And may our lives by you be blest.
Come, God-is-with-us,
And free us from the false claims
Of the empires of the world.
We are lonely for you and your peace.
Come, Emmanuel, and dwell with us.
Make us your people indeed,
The people through whom you bring
Love and justice to the world.
Come, Jesus, and reign;
Claim your rightful place within our hearts
And in the midst of our community.
Plant the seeds of hope amongst us.
Establish God’s reign on earth.
For we pray as you taught us
That God’s reign might come in fullness on earth.
Ruth’s prayer calls us to remember.
Remember, God has not come and then deserted us.
He said, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Remember, this presence is not vague or distant;
he is with us, up close and within our community:
“For where two or three are gathered in my name,
I am there among them."
Remember, we are his body – some of us his hands,
some of us his feet – and he lives and works
in us and through us, not as individuals,
but as a people.
May God in his grace, help us receive
the grace of his presence,
and enact the power of that presence
in our lives today.
Ron
(Matthew 1:23-24; Matthew 28:20: Matthew 18:20 – NRSV)
And he has answered our prayers in a way
very different than that which we expected.
"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,"
which means, "God is with us."
God does not arrive as a mighty king,
riding a snorting, raring charger.
He is delivered as the precious, helpless child
of a teenage mother whose own people
do not believe her incredible story.
This child is an outcast, not the patron,
not the host, but one needing
hospitality on even his first night
In our world.
A Prayer for Emmanuel
Ruth Duck
Come, Christ Jesus, be our guest,
And may our lives by you be blest.
Come, God-is-with-us,
And free us from the false claims
Of the empires of the world.
We are lonely for you and your peace.
Come, Emmanuel, and dwell with us.
Make us your people indeed,
The people through whom you bring
Love and justice to the world.
Come, Jesus, and reign;
Claim your rightful place within our hearts
And in the midst of our community.
Plant the seeds of hope amongst us.
Establish God’s reign on earth.
For we pray as you taught us
That God’s reign might come in fullness on earth.
Ruth’s prayer calls us to remember.
Remember, God has not come and then deserted us.
He said, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Remember, this presence is not vague or distant;
he is with us, up close and within our community:
“For where two or three are gathered in my name,
I am there among them."
Remember, we are his body – some of us his hands,
some of us his feet – and he lives and works
in us and through us, not as individuals,
but as a people.
May God in his grace, help us receive
the grace of his presence,
and enact the power of that presence
in our lives today.
Ron
(Matthew 1:23-24; Matthew 28:20: Matthew 18:20 – NRSV)
Friday, December 5, 2008
You call us ...
Today’s devotional connects our past and present identities in a scripture and a prayer:
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision" — a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands — remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Ephesians 2:11-22 – NRSV
Our right names
Walter Brueggemann
You God toward whom we pray and
about whom we sing, and
from whom we claim our very life.
In your presence, in our seasons of ache and yearning and honesty,
we know our right names.
In your presence we know ourselves to be aliens and strangers.
We gasp in recognition, taken by surprise at this disclosure,
because we had nearly settled in
and taken up residence in the wrong place.
For all of that, we turn out to be
we strangers, unfamiliar with your covenant,
remote from your people,
at odds too much with sisters and brothers,
we aliens, with no hope
without promise
with very little sense of belonging or knowing
or risking or trusting,
It is in your presence that we come face to face with our beset
beleaguered existence in the world.
BUT
You are the one who by your odd power
calls us by new names that we can
receive only from you and
relish only in your company.
You call us now,
citizens … with all the rights and privileges and
responsibilities pertaining to life in your commonwealth.
You call us now saints, not because we are good or gentle,
or perfect,
but because you have spotted us and marked us
and claimed us for yourself and your purposes.
You call us members … and we dare imagine that we belong
and may finally come home.
So with daring and freedom,
we move from our old names known too well
to the new names you speak over us,
and in the very utterance we are transformed.
In the moment of utterance and transformation, we look past
ourselves and past our sisters and brothers here present. And
we notice so many other siblings broken, estranged, consumed
in rage and shame and loneliness, much born of wretched
economics. We bid powerfully that you name afresh all your
creatures this day, even as you name us afresh. We pray for
nothing more and nothing less than your name for us all,
utterly new, restored heaven and earth.
And we will take our new names with us when we leave this place,
treasuring them all day long,
citizen,
saint,
member,
even as we take with us the odd name of Jesus. Amen.
May God bless you with an awareness of your identity
and acceptance in him
and in his welcoming community.
Ron
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision" — a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands — remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.
But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Ephesians 2:11-22 – NRSV
Our right names
Walter Brueggemann
You God toward whom we pray and
about whom we sing, and
from whom we claim our very life.
In your presence, in our seasons of ache and yearning and honesty,
we know our right names.
In your presence we know ourselves to be aliens and strangers.
We gasp in recognition, taken by surprise at this disclosure,
because we had nearly settled in
and taken up residence in the wrong place.
For all of that, we turn out to be
we strangers, unfamiliar with your covenant,
remote from your people,
at odds too much with sisters and brothers,
we aliens, with no hope
without promise
with very little sense of belonging or knowing
or risking or trusting,
It is in your presence that we come face to face with our beset
beleaguered existence in the world.
BUT
You are the one who by your odd power
calls us by new names that we can
receive only from you and
relish only in your company.
You call us now,
citizens … with all the rights and privileges and
responsibilities pertaining to life in your commonwealth.
You call us now saints, not because we are good or gentle,
or perfect,
but because you have spotted us and marked us
and claimed us for yourself and your purposes.
You call us members … and we dare imagine that we belong
and may finally come home.
So with daring and freedom,
we move from our old names known too well
to the new names you speak over us,
and in the very utterance we are transformed.
In the moment of utterance and transformation, we look past
ourselves and past our sisters and brothers here present. And
we notice so many other siblings broken, estranged, consumed
in rage and shame and loneliness, much born of wretched
economics. We bid powerfully that you name afresh all your
creatures this day, even as you name us afresh. We pray for
nothing more and nothing less than your name for us all,
utterly new, restored heaven and earth.
And we will take our new names with us when we leave this place,
treasuring them all day long,
citizen,
saint,
member,
even as we take with us the odd name of Jesus. Amen.
May God bless you with an awareness of your identity
and acceptance in him
and in his welcoming community.
Ron
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Power to the little people ...
We all know the story of Zacchaeus. His encounter with Jesus is more than a silly children’s song; it is a narrative full of penitence, hope and grace. Remember?
[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
Being rich doesn’t mean that one necessarily belongs, that one is an insider. The fact that Zacchaeus had accumulated his wealth as a tax collector kept the wealthy insiders at a remote distance, and pushed the poor away as a consequence of his oppressive work. His extreme slightness of stature reduced him to a comic figure whom both the rich and poor could easily ridicule. Zacchaeus was the worst kind of outcast – a self-made outcast. So what are we to do with outcasts? Doesn’t the Bible call us to bring them within the bounds of our hospitality, under our protection as host? What does Jesus do?
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus would do whatever Jesus asks; he would have followed him to a table that Jesus hosted, or he would have joined him as a guest at a table to which Jesus had been invited. Yet Jesus yields the place of “status”, he gives up the position of power. Jesus elevates Zacchaeus to the role of host. At the same time, Jesus humbles himself to be the guest of one of low stature – a “sinner”.
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
You have to say this about Zacchaeus; when he grasps the situation, he does his best to make it right. He may not have worldly status, nor may it be possible for him to ever gain it. So instead Zacchaeus does what it takes to move toward righteous kingdom behavior, and thus be a more fitting host to a guest, this extraordinary teacher, Jesus. And once again, the guest will not be out-given. “Salvation has come to this house!”
So what shape does this take in our world? Do we always force children into the role of guest, while we stand entrenched in the more powerful place as host? How tempting is it to tell a child, “This is my house, these are my rules …” Which is ironic when the child may have lived in this house as long as we have. Is there not a time to yield the position of power in hospitality so as to empower those with a lesser place? Think about it. May God help us to deal with hospitality in a godly way.
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.
Being rich doesn’t mean that one necessarily belongs, that one is an insider. The fact that Zacchaeus had accumulated his wealth as a tax collector kept the wealthy insiders at a remote distance, and pushed the poor away as a consequence of his oppressive work. His extreme slightness of stature reduced him to a comic figure whom both the rich and poor could easily ridicule. Zacchaeus was the worst kind of outcast – a self-made outcast. So what are we to do with outcasts? Doesn’t the Bible call us to bring them within the bounds of our hospitality, under our protection as host? What does Jesus do?
When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.
All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
Zacchaeus would do whatever Jesus asks; he would have followed him to a table that Jesus hosted, or he would have joined him as a guest at a table to which Jesus had been invited. Yet Jesus yields the place of “status”, he gives up the position of power. Jesus elevates Zacchaeus to the role of host. At the same time, Jesus humbles himself to be the guest of one of low stature – a “sinner”.
Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much."
Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."
You have to say this about Zacchaeus; when he grasps the situation, he does his best to make it right. He may not have worldly status, nor may it be possible for him to ever gain it. So instead Zacchaeus does what it takes to move toward righteous kingdom behavior, and thus be a more fitting host to a guest, this extraordinary teacher, Jesus. And once again, the guest will not be out-given. “Salvation has come to this house!”
So what shape does this take in our world? Do we always force children into the role of guest, while we stand entrenched in the more powerful place as host? How tempting is it to tell a child, “This is my house, these are my rules …” Which is ironic when the child may have lived in this house as long as we have. Is there not a time to yield the position of power in hospitality so as to empower those with a lesser place? Think about it. May God help us to deal with hospitality in a godly way.
Blessings,
Ron
Luke 19:1-10 – NRSV
Monday, December 1, 2008
Mighty fine wine ...
Jesus easily proves that he is the kind of guest that any hospitable host would want:
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine."
And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come."
His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
John 2:1-11 – NRSV
All of us have been to a wedding where there was not enough to eat or to drink; it’s an uncomfortable moment, isn’t it? The lack of food or drink hovers over the party as an unspoken critique of the hospitality of the host. Yet the society in which Jesus lived put much more pressure on the host – the wedding meal was supposed to be a feast that indicated the unbridled joy of the groom and his new wife; there was no other meal for the guests that evening. Yet at the precise moment that the host is most likely to be embarrassed by a failure to provide properly for his guests, Jesus intervenes. He does not wave his hand over one more pint of punch. Jesus makes about 150 gallons of the very finest wine, a commodity in a quantity that could easily cost $15,000 in today’s economy. Evidently it was quite a wedding! How grand did this host and his bride appear to be!
As John tells us the story, the host remains oblivious to the blessing given by his guest. He may very well have been surrounded by the presents of so many other guests: promptly delivered in person, carefully listed by a servant, and lavishly thanked by the couple. Yet the grandest gift of them all, one of immense monetary value, one of immeasurable social value, was given with no “From: Jesus” card attached. Only the servants and the disciples of Jesus knew.
How many times is Jesus the silent guest at our table? How often does his power provide the embarrassment of riches that we serve? The blessings which prevent our embarrassment before our guests? I don’t suppose that we could count the ways that he enriches our hospitality, could we? Because in truth, all blessings come from God.
We might easily respond, “I’ve never had Jesus physically at my table.” Yet since Jesus challenged us to be hospitable to even “the least of these,” because in doing so we minister to Jesus, we ought to believe that in feeding, clothing, or sheltering an outcast soul, and thus comforting Jesus, that this outcast soul may very well be able to bless us as Jesus is able to bless us. Not as compensation or appreciation, but in some other category of blessing altogether.
Think about it. Pray about it. Try practicing it with these wonderful blessings of outcast children in our care today.
Blessings,
Ron
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine."
And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come."
His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."
Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it.
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
John 2:1-11 – NRSV
All of us have been to a wedding where there was not enough to eat or to drink; it’s an uncomfortable moment, isn’t it? The lack of food or drink hovers over the party as an unspoken critique of the hospitality of the host. Yet the society in which Jesus lived put much more pressure on the host – the wedding meal was supposed to be a feast that indicated the unbridled joy of the groom and his new wife; there was no other meal for the guests that evening. Yet at the precise moment that the host is most likely to be embarrassed by a failure to provide properly for his guests, Jesus intervenes. He does not wave his hand over one more pint of punch. Jesus makes about 150 gallons of the very finest wine, a commodity in a quantity that could easily cost $15,000 in today’s economy. Evidently it was quite a wedding! How grand did this host and his bride appear to be!
As John tells us the story, the host remains oblivious to the blessing given by his guest. He may very well have been surrounded by the presents of so many other guests: promptly delivered in person, carefully listed by a servant, and lavishly thanked by the couple. Yet the grandest gift of them all, one of immense monetary value, one of immeasurable social value, was given with no “From: Jesus” card attached. Only the servants and the disciples of Jesus knew.
How many times is Jesus the silent guest at our table? How often does his power provide the embarrassment of riches that we serve? The blessings which prevent our embarrassment before our guests? I don’t suppose that we could count the ways that he enriches our hospitality, could we? Because in truth, all blessings come from God.
We might easily respond, “I’ve never had Jesus physically at my table.” Yet since Jesus challenged us to be hospitable to even “the least of these,” because in doing so we minister to Jesus, we ought to believe that in feeding, clothing, or sheltering an outcast soul, and thus comforting Jesus, that this outcast soul may very well be able to bless us as Jesus is able to bless us. Not as compensation or appreciation, but in some other category of blessing altogether.
Think about it. Pray about it. Try practicing it with these wonderful blessings of outcast children in our care today.
Blessings,
Ron
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Make a small biscuit ...
Mark Hamilton thinks that God is an unusual travel agent.
Elijah needs a little time out of town because the stresses of being a prophet have become too much. God gives him directions, and tells him to hurry if he is going to make his connections. Once he has arrived at Kerith Canyon on the far side of the Jordan, he camps out there alongside the brook. The dining arrangements are unique, to say the least. At mealtime, birds bring Elijah’s breakfast, or supper, as he needs them and Elijah drinks from the brook. But, like some hotels that you and I have stayed at overseas, there are water problems so Elijah has to go.
God then gives Elijah the rest of his itinerary. Hear the story:
Then God spoke to him: "Get up and go to Zarephath in Sidon and live there. I've instructed a woman who lives there, a widow, to feed you."
So he got up and went to Zarephath. As he came to the entrance of the village he met a woman, a widow, gathering firewood. He asked her, "Please, would you bring me a little water in a jug? I need a drink." As she went to get it, he called out, "And while you're at it, would you bring me something to eat?"
She said, "I swear, as surely as your God lives, I don't have so much as a biscuit. I have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a bottle; you found me scratching together just enough firewood to make a last meal for my son and me. After we eat it, we'll die."
Elijah said to her, "Don't worry about a thing. Go ahead and do what you've said. But first make a small biscuit for me and bring it back here. Then go ahead and make a meal from what's left for you and your son. This is the word of the God of Israel: 'The jar of flour will not run out and the bottle of oil will not become empty before God sends rain on the land and ends this drought.'"
And she went right off and did it, did just as Elijah asked. And it turned out as he said — daily food for her and her family. The jar of meal didn't run out and the bottle of oil didn't become empty: God's promise fulfilled to the letter, exactly as Elijah had delivered it!
Later on the woman's son became sick. The sickness took a turn for the worse — and then he stopped breathing.
The woman said to Elijah, "Why did you ever show up here in the first place — a holy man barging in, exposing my sins, and killing my son?"
Elijah said, "Hand me your son."
He then took him from her bosom, carried him up to the loft where he was staying, and laid him on his bed. Then he prayed, "O God, my God, why have you brought this terrible thing on this widow who has opened her home to me? Why have you killed her son?"
Three times he stretched himself out full-length on the boy, praying with all his might, "God, my God, put breath back into this boy's body!" God listened to Elijah's prayer and put breath back into his body — he was alive! Elijah picked the boy up, carried him downstairs from the loft, and gave him to his mother. "Here's your son," said Elijah, "alive!"
The woman said to Elijah, "I see it all now — you are a holy man. When you speak, God speaks — a true word!"
1 Kings 17:8-24 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)
What are the issues that mark hospitality in this story?
First, we shouldn’t be quick to judge who is able to offer hospitality. Elijah was hosted by a flock of birds! And later, he is cared for by a widow trying to support her son at a time when there was no Social Security or welfare system as we know it. Yet hospitality provided everything that Elijah needed.
That is because, second, hospitality involves simplicity. It is not that the gifts of the host are necessarily lavish; that may not be possible. But the love and the care involved in hospitality are lavish because they go well beyond self-interest.
Third, the real provider of sustenance in hospitality is God. God provided the food for the birds to bring to Elijah, and he kept the jar and bottle full of flour and oil as well. Because of the widow’s willingness to share in hospitality, God provided even more for the host than she would have had otherwise.
Finally, we see once again that in true hospitality, the guest blesses the host at least as much as the host blesses the guest. Yes, Elijah is fed, but the wherewithal to do that is a blessing that God gives through Elijah. And what would the widow have done to heal her son if not for her extraordinary guest? The healing is hardly repayment in kind (Luke 14:12-14), but a blessing from God of another kind altogether.
Today, as we are about the ministry of hospitality, providing a safe place for needy children or the other important tasks of our day, let’s think about these four markers of hospitality and how we can be better hosts and guests. Even more, let us be thankful to God, the true provider, for the ways that he shows hospitality to us in this, his world.
Blessings,
Ron
Elijah needs a little time out of town because the stresses of being a prophet have become too much. God gives him directions, and tells him to hurry if he is going to make his connections. Once he has arrived at Kerith Canyon on the far side of the Jordan, he camps out there alongside the brook. The dining arrangements are unique, to say the least. At mealtime, birds bring Elijah’s breakfast, or supper, as he needs them and Elijah drinks from the brook. But, like some hotels that you and I have stayed at overseas, there are water problems so Elijah has to go.
God then gives Elijah the rest of his itinerary. Hear the story:
Then God spoke to him: "Get up and go to Zarephath in Sidon and live there. I've instructed a woman who lives there, a widow, to feed you."
So he got up and went to Zarephath. As he came to the entrance of the village he met a woman, a widow, gathering firewood. He asked her, "Please, would you bring me a little water in a jug? I need a drink." As she went to get it, he called out, "And while you're at it, would you bring me something to eat?"
She said, "I swear, as surely as your God lives, I don't have so much as a biscuit. I have a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a bottle; you found me scratching together just enough firewood to make a last meal for my son and me. After we eat it, we'll die."
Elijah said to her, "Don't worry about a thing. Go ahead and do what you've said. But first make a small biscuit for me and bring it back here. Then go ahead and make a meal from what's left for you and your son. This is the word of the God of Israel: 'The jar of flour will not run out and the bottle of oil will not become empty before God sends rain on the land and ends this drought.'"
And she went right off and did it, did just as Elijah asked. And it turned out as he said — daily food for her and her family. The jar of meal didn't run out and the bottle of oil didn't become empty: God's promise fulfilled to the letter, exactly as Elijah had delivered it!
Later on the woman's son became sick. The sickness took a turn for the worse — and then he stopped breathing.
The woman said to Elijah, "Why did you ever show up here in the first place — a holy man barging in, exposing my sins, and killing my son?"
Elijah said, "Hand me your son."
He then took him from her bosom, carried him up to the loft where he was staying, and laid him on his bed. Then he prayed, "O God, my God, why have you brought this terrible thing on this widow who has opened her home to me? Why have you killed her son?"
Three times he stretched himself out full-length on the boy, praying with all his might, "God, my God, put breath back into this boy's body!" God listened to Elijah's prayer and put breath back into his body — he was alive! Elijah picked the boy up, carried him downstairs from the loft, and gave him to his mother. "Here's your son," said Elijah, "alive!"
The woman said to Elijah, "I see it all now — you are a holy man. When you speak, God speaks — a true word!"
1 Kings 17:8-24 (from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)
What are the issues that mark hospitality in this story?
First, we shouldn’t be quick to judge who is able to offer hospitality. Elijah was hosted by a flock of birds! And later, he is cared for by a widow trying to support her son at a time when there was no Social Security or welfare system as we know it. Yet hospitality provided everything that Elijah needed.
That is because, second, hospitality involves simplicity. It is not that the gifts of the host are necessarily lavish; that may not be possible. But the love and the care involved in hospitality are lavish because they go well beyond self-interest.
Third, the real provider of sustenance in hospitality is God. God provided the food for the birds to bring to Elijah, and he kept the jar and bottle full of flour and oil as well. Because of the widow’s willingness to share in hospitality, God provided even more for the host than she would have had otherwise.
Finally, we see once again that in true hospitality, the guest blesses the host at least as much as the host blesses the guest. Yes, Elijah is fed, but the wherewithal to do that is a blessing that God gives through Elijah. And what would the widow have done to heal her son if not for her extraordinary guest? The healing is hardly repayment in kind (Luke 14:12-14), but a blessing from God of another kind altogether.
Today, as we are about the ministry of hospitality, providing a safe place for needy children or the other important tasks of our day, let’s think about these four markers of hospitality and how we can be better hosts and guests. Even more, let us be thankful to God, the true provider, for the ways that he shows hospitality to us in this, his world.
Blessings,
Ron
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Who's that knocking at the door?
Someone knocks at the door.
You go to see who it is, and as you open the door, you see two men standing there. Black suit coats. Black pants. Black hats. Ray Bans. If you were to ask, one of them would tell you that he has $23.07 in his pocket. But there is no luggage, and no car, not even a car “with a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, … cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks.” Not even “a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas.”
You’re admittedly a little stunned, so you stand there speechless. The two men look at each other, then look at you and say together, “We’re on a mission from God.”
Would you let them in?
Before you answer “no”, consider the task that Jesus gave to the seventy that he sent out in pairs:
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.' I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town.
Luke 10:2-12 – NRSV
When Jesus sent forth his workers, he deliberately sent them with so few resources that they would be dependent upon the hospitality of others. They could not purchase room, board, or replacement sandals; others would have to provide them with these blessings.
Yet, who blessed whom?
Did the people who provided shelter and food give a greater blessing, or the guests who delivered the living water? Sometimes we see ourselves as the benefactors when we invite guests into our homes, yet who blesses whom?
Just as the hosts of Jesus’ messengers were blessed by their hospitality, so are we. This is generally true, but it is especially when we show hospitality to children. Don’t expect the blessing, and don’t ask for it either. But watch and see if they do not bring more into your life than you can put into theirs. Perhaps this awareness will allow us to burn bright, instead of burn out.
May God bless your hospitality today.
Ron
You go to see who it is, and as you open the door, you see two men standing there. Black suit coats. Black pants. Black hats. Ray Bans. If you were to ask, one of them would tell you that he has $23.07 in his pocket. But there is no luggage, and no car, not even a car “with a cop motor, a 440 cubic inch plant, … cop tires, cop suspensions, cop shocks.” Not even “a model made before catalytic converters so it'll run good on regular gas.”
You’re admittedly a little stunned, so you stand there speechless. The two men look at each other, then look at you and say together, “We’re on a mission from God.”
Would you let them in?
Before you answer “no”, consider the task that Jesus gave to the seventy that he sent out in pairs:
The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.' I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town.
Luke 10:2-12 – NRSV
When Jesus sent forth his workers, he deliberately sent them with so few resources that they would be dependent upon the hospitality of others. They could not purchase room, board, or replacement sandals; others would have to provide them with these blessings.
Yet, who blessed whom?
Did the people who provided shelter and food give a greater blessing, or the guests who delivered the living water? Sometimes we see ourselves as the benefactors when we invite guests into our homes, yet who blesses whom?
Just as the hosts of Jesus’ messengers were blessed by their hospitality, so are we. This is generally true, but it is especially when we show hospitality to children. Don’t expect the blessing, and don’t ask for it either. But watch and see if they do not bring more into your life than you can put into theirs. Perhaps this awareness will allow us to burn bright, instead of burn out.
May God bless your hospitality today.
Ron
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