From the lectionary texts for this week, Isaiah 25:6-9.
Hear the word of the Lord:
On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make
for all peoples a feast of rich food,
a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow,
of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord GOD will wipe away
the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people
he will take away from all the earth,
for the LORD has spoken.
It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God;
we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the LORD for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
The voice of Isaiah brings word of the remarkable hospitality of God. Does the miraculous work of Jesus (John 2), where he makes water into wine at the wedding feast, fulfill this promise? Partially, but not perfectly. Even that marvelous move for hospitality at Cana did not completely bring the promised hospitality of which Isaiah speaks so longingly. How could it while we are still in this broken world? When Jesus says, “Woman, my hour is not yet come,” Jesus seems to be saying that it is not yet time for him to host the great celebration meant for the end of all time. It still isn’t time for perfect hospitality.
So we stand in tension. On one hand, we believe that the kingdom of God will, in the fullness of all time, bring the perfect and amazing banquet in heaven itself, presided over by God himself. At this table there is no exclusion, no pain, no disgrace, no death. There will be providence, peace, and salvation.
On the other hand, we believe that our job as messengers of the kingdom is to offer hospitality to a broken world today. Just because we can’t do it perfectly doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try to do it better. So while we ought to expect that we can and will be more perfectly hospitable, we need to guard our hearts from the false expectation that we are going to do this perfectly in this life. We will not.
We are in the middle. Before, hospitality did not seem so important. In eternity, it is God’s way of welcoming his people into perfection. Now we are challenged to offer the best that we have, and to forgive when what we receive inevitably falls short of flawless. We have to wait; Isaiah tells us so twice: “we have waited for him, so that he might save us”; and “This is the Lord for whom we have waited.”
We can afford to be patient because God will keep God’s promise. God will not allow that patience to go unrewarded; when the time is right, those who have waited will receive from his hands what only his ways can produce: well-aged wine.
Grace and peace,
Ron
Showing posts with label host. Show all posts
Showing posts with label host. Show all posts
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Magnify the Lord with me ...
Hear the word of the Lord from Psalm 34:
I will bless the LORD at all times;
praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul makes its boast in the LORD;
let the humble hear and be glad.
O magnify the LORD with me,
and let us exalt his name together.
Every day is the right day,
every time is the right time to praise God.
Those who are humble, and not totally tangled up
in their own lives will hear, and gladly add
their voices to the song.
I sought the LORD, and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears.
Look to him, and be radiant;
so your faces shall never be ashamed.
This poor soul cried, and was heard by the LORD,
and was saved from every trouble.
Our worship does not protect us from fear,
But faithfully practiced, it will deliver us from fear.
Though we may be troubled, let us never be ashamed.
May our hope in our God change the look on our face
And the way that we walk.
The angel of the LORD encamps around those
who fear him, and delivers them.
O taste and see that the LORD is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him.
Not all messengers are visible, not all angelic hosts are seen;
remember the servant of Elisha and the hills
around their camp that great day.
Even beyond that, remember the name Emmanuel –
God is with us – because God is really with us.
The LORD bless you and keep you.
The LORD make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious to you.
The LORD lift his countenance upon you –
and give you peace.
Ron
Psalm 34:1-8; 2 Kings 6:17; Number 6:24-27
I will bless the LORD at all times;
praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul makes its boast in the LORD;
let the humble hear and be glad.
O magnify the LORD with me,
and let us exalt his name together.
Every day is the right day,
every time is the right time to praise God.
Those who are humble, and not totally tangled up
in their own lives will hear, and gladly add
their voices to the song.
I sought the LORD, and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears.
Look to him, and be radiant;
so your faces shall never be ashamed.
This poor soul cried, and was heard by the LORD,
and was saved from every trouble.
Our worship does not protect us from fear,
But faithfully practiced, it will deliver us from fear.
Though we may be troubled, let us never be ashamed.
May our hope in our God change the look on our face
And the way that we walk.
The angel of the LORD encamps around those
who fear him, and delivers them.
O taste and see that the LORD is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him.
Not all messengers are visible, not all angelic hosts are seen;
remember the servant of Elisha and the hills
around their camp that great day.
Even beyond that, remember the name Emmanuel –
God is with us – because God is really with us.
The LORD bless you and keep you.
The LORD make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious to you.
The LORD lift his countenance upon you –
and give you peace.
Ron
Psalm 34:1-8; 2 Kings 6:17; Number 6:24-27
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)
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Blessed if you do them ...
Today’s devotional is a reading about a very memorable evening of hospitality:
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him.
And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!"
Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, 'The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me."
John 13:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him.
And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"
Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand."
Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet."
Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me."
Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!"
Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean."
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, 'The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.' I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me."
John 13:1-20 – NRSV
Blessings,
Ron
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Welcoming gifts ...
Today’s devotional thought is wrapped up in a story. Be patient until the end; this story is not about parsing Hebrew, but about an important practice for all of us.
By 2003, I had finished one graduate degree at OC, and had what I needed to maintain my position at the Home, and at most other ministries. I was still hungry to learn, though, and sought to keep growing as a person, even as a soul that was nearly twice as old as most of my peers. So I decided to do work on an MDiv.
Abilene has a larger campus than OC, and its Graduate School of Theology is much larger as well. In my first class on campus, on the very first day, there are thirty to forty graduate students present. Dr. Douglas Foster is the professor, and the class is titled “Advanced Restoration History.” For an introvert being around forty people, none of whom you know, is a stressful experience. Being at a new university is stressful. Starting a new enterprise is stressful. Being nearly fifty years old doesn’t help as much as you might think. That’s because you’re much closer to the age of the professor than any of the other students, than even the “non-traditional” students. Probably 80% of these other students have done bachelors or masters work together. I am an outsider, and, because of the knowledge of these realities, and the emotions percolating inside of me, I feel it. I don't yet feel that this is a safe place for me.
The first day is not unusual in many ways. Dr. Foster takes the class members through a series of brief self-introductions. He walks us through the syllabus. He talks about his expectations for our conduct and our work. He gives an overview of the content of the class. And he instructs us to have a proposal for our research paper ready for him by the next class meeting. A full day one.
Because of my long-term interest in children and youth, I already have an idea for my paper. At the end of class, I approach Dr. Foster to discuss my proposal. He greets me and then listens intently, ignoring the chaos of the other departing students. He then responds, “I’d like to talk with you about this further; can you walk with me? I need to put something in my office before graduate chapel.”
Surprised at his warmth, I answer, “Sure,” and we walk and talk all the way up to his office. As we work our way through the Hall of Servants, we discuss the possibilities of my idea, and, without my having to ask, he gives two or three leads on sources that might be useful for my work. Then he accompanies me through the door where we enter into the “inner sanctum” of the graduate professors to finish our talk.
“Come to graduate chapel with me,” Dr. Foster invites. And I go, because he asked.
As we enter the chapel, he introduces me to a few people, and we sit down to worship God together. Not as professor and student, but as brothers in Christ. In this beautiful space, there is a strong call to worship. One feels drawn into the singing by its beauty and power. Jack Reese then issues a wise call to the students and faculty to glorify God and serve the church through their scholarship, instead of glorifying or serving anyone or anything else, including their own egos. From that day forward, I will never miss the opportunity to be a part of that worshipping community if at all possible, even on the days when it might be good to read one more chapter, or to memorize one more conjugation.
This is the way that hospitality works.
Making people feel welcome is more than a cup of coffee, more even than a meal. It is a collection of small moments, apparently insignificant in logical terms at the time, but huge emotionally nonetheless. These moments are pivotal because the feelings of safety or danger, of warmth or coolness, or of closeness or distance, start to frame the emotional aspects of the relationship from the very first moment two people, or a person and a community meet. People immediately sense through the hospitality of a person whether the door is open or closed. The momentum of attraction to, or repulsion from, that relationship accumulates instantaneously.
What are the verbs that describe the nature of hospitality in this ten-minute window one Wednesday morning? Greeting, listening, walking, conversing, giving, accompanying, entering, inviting, introducing, worshipping.
What are the gifts enacted by those verbs of hospitality? Welcome, voice, time, dialogue, knowledge, companionship, entrée, acceptance, relationship, community. The bonus gift, perhaps the sum of them, is the feeling of safety found in this environment.
A very brief slice of time. Powerful hospitality. Reshaping a small part of a person’s view of the world, forming an enduring relationship between two people, and connecting an outsider to a community. Not a thing to do with food or drink. Yet not all refreshment enters one’s stomach. When hospitality is done well, it refreshes both the body and spirit of the host and guest (John 4).
Today, move through your world aware of your roles as guest and host; be a blessing to outsiders and community however that is possible for you.
Blessings,
Ron
By 2003, I had finished one graduate degree at OC, and had what I needed to maintain my position at the Home, and at most other ministries. I was still hungry to learn, though, and sought to keep growing as a person, even as a soul that was nearly twice as old as most of my peers. So I decided to do work on an MDiv.
Abilene has a larger campus than OC, and its Graduate School of Theology is much larger as well. In my first class on campus, on the very first day, there are thirty to forty graduate students present. Dr. Douglas Foster is the professor, and the class is titled “Advanced Restoration History.” For an introvert being around forty people, none of whom you know, is a stressful experience. Being at a new university is stressful. Starting a new enterprise is stressful. Being nearly fifty years old doesn’t help as much as you might think. That’s because you’re much closer to the age of the professor than any of the other students, than even the “non-traditional” students. Probably 80% of these other students have done bachelors or masters work together. I am an outsider, and, because of the knowledge of these realities, and the emotions percolating inside of me, I feel it. I don't yet feel that this is a safe place for me.
The first day is not unusual in many ways. Dr. Foster takes the class members through a series of brief self-introductions. He walks us through the syllabus. He talks about his expectations for our conduct and our work. He gives an overview of the content of the class. And he instructs us to have a proposal for our research paper ready for him by the next class meeting. A full day one.
Because of my long-term interest in children and youth, I already have an idea for my paper. At the end of class, I approach Dr. Foster to discuss my proposal. He greets me and then listens intently, ignoring the chaos of the other departing students. He then responds, “I’d like to talk with you about this further; can you walk with me? I need to put something in my office before graduate chapel.”
Surprised at his warmth, I answer, “Sure,” and we walk and talk all the way up to his office. As we work our way through the Hall of Servants, we discuss the possibilities of my idea, and, without my having to ask, he gives two or three leads on sources that might be useful for my work. Then he accompanies me through the door where we enter into the “inner sanctum” of the graduate professors to finish our talk.
“Come to graduate chapel with me,” Dr. Foster invites. And I go, because he asked.
As we enter the chapel, he introduces me to a few people, and we sit down to worship God together. Not as professor and student, but as brothers in Christ. In this beautiful space, there is a strong call to worship. One feels drawn into the singing by its beauty and power. Jack Reese then issues a wise call to the students and faculty to glorify God and serve the church through their scholarship, instead of glorifying or serving anyone or anything else, including their own egos. From that day forward, I will never miss the opportunity to be a part of that worshipping community if at all possible, even on the days when it might be good to read one more chapter, or to memorize one more conjugation.
This is the way that hospitality works.
Making people feel welcome is more than a cup of coffee, more even than a meal. It is a collection of small moments, apparently insignificant in logical terms at the time, but huge emotionally nonetheless. These moments are pivotal because the feelings of safety or danger, of warmth or coolness, or of closeness or distance, start to frame the emotional aspects of the relationship from the very first moment two people, or a person and a community meet. People immediately sense through the hospitality of a person whether the door is open or closed. The momentum of attraction to, or repulsion from, that relationship accumulates instantaneously.
What are the verbs that describe the nature of hospitality in this ten-minute window one Wednesday morning? Greeting, listening, walking, conversing, giving, accompanying, entering, inviting, introducing, worshipping.
What are the gifts enacted by those verbs of hospitality? Welcome, voice, time, dialogue, knowledge, companionship, entrée, acceptance, relationship, community. The bonus gift, perhaps the sum of them, is the feeling of safety found in this environment.
A very brief slice of time. Powerful hospitality. Reshaping a small part of a person’s view of the world, forming an enduring relationship between two people, and connecting an outsider to a community. Not a thing to do with food or drink. Yet not all refreshment enters one’s stomach. When hospitality is done well, it refreshes both the body and spirit of the host and guest (John 4).
Today, move through your world aware of your roles as guest and host; be a blessing to outsiders and community however that is possible for you.
Blessings,
Ron
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Give them something ...
Sometimes the demands that we face in taking care of children seem overpowering. How do we get enough time? Where do we get enough resources? Hospitality for these children can be overwhelming when either the need of the individual, or the number of individuals is too great. Care at its extremes is neither cheap nor easy. This is a reality that the apostles soon discovered in their ministry:
On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately to a city called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out about it, they followed him; and he welcomed them, and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed to be cured.
The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place."
The number of hungry, needy people is overwhelming. The apostles know full-well how much food that they have; they’re hungry, too. So they choose to punt; we can’t handle this much neediness, so send these people away. Let them get their meals from the professional hospitality industry. Which is problematic. There really is no professional hospitality industry to speak of in the first century. However much there is, it’s certainly not large enough to accommodate this many needy people.
But he said to them, "You give them something to eat."
Notice what Jesus doesn’t do: he doesn’t say, “Who put you in charge?” Neither does he assert his own power in a way demeaning to the apostles. He acknowledges that they see the need (which is something that many people would have missed), and he redirects them toward a more appropriate response. Jesus assumes neither the position of power nor that of the host. He guides his apostles toward a risky hospitality - there may not be enough for a feast, but give them something …
They said, "We have no more than five loaves and two fish — unless we are to go and buy food for all these people." For there were about five thousand men.
And he said to his disciples, "Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each." They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.
Jesus knows that hospitality, in this case a meal, is not just about sharing resources; it is about sharing relationships as well. He divides the people into smaller groups, and maintains the apostles as hosts of these groups. Can we see the power of godly hospitality here? If we will sit down to share a meal together, somehow there will be enough for everyone. Not just food, but relationship, and status, and power as well. May we have the courage, not only to be a community of hospitality, but to help our children discover how they can be empowered to serve through hospitality themselves.
Grace, and peace,
Ron
Luke 9:10-17 – NRSV
On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately to a city called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out about it, they followed him; and he welcomed them, and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed to be cured.
The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, "Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place."
The number of hungry, needy people is overwhelming. The apostles know full-well how much food that they have; they’re hungry, too. So they choose to punt; we can’t handle this much neediness, so send these people away. Let them get their meals from the professional hospitality industry. Which is problematic. There really is no professional hospitality industry to speak of in the first century. However much there is, it’s certainly not large enough to accommodate this many needy people.
But he said to them, "You give them something to eat."
Notice what Jesus doesn’t do: he doesn’t say, “Who put you in charge?” Neither does he assert his own power in a way demeaning to the apostles. He acknowledges that they see the need (which is something that many people would have missed), and he redirects them toward a more appropriate response. Jesus assumes neither the position of power nor that of the host. He guides his apostles toward a risky hospitality - there may not be enough for a feast, but give them something …
They said, "We have no more than five loaves and two fish — unless we are to go and buy food for all these people." For there were about five thousand men.
And he said to his disciples, "Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each." They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.
Jesus knows that hospitality, in this case a meal, is not just about sharing resources; it is about sharing relationships as well. He divides the people into smaller groups, and maintains the apostles as hosts of these groups. Can we see the power of godly hospitality here? If we will sit down to share a meal together, somehow there will be enough for everyone. Not just food, but relationship, and status, and power as well. May we have the courage, not only to be a community of hospitality, but to help our children discover how they can be empowered to serve through hospitality themselves.
Grace, and peace,
Ron
Luke 9:10-17 – NRSV
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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