The Experience vs the Expectation Pt. 1

Jeremiah 29 is an interesting chapter.  I'm sure we are all far too familiar with the whole "I know the plans..." part of the scripture in verse 11 and have probably either quoted or had it quoted to it to us in regards to our purpose, and the fact that God has a plan for all of us.  But, what about the rest of the chapter?  This morning, I kept thinking about what the KJV version calls "an expected end," and more specifically what that expectation was.  


I am reminded of a conversation I had with my cousin Din a few months ago in which he pointed out the context of this passage.  Jeremiah wrote this letter to the exiled children of Abraham while they were in exile.  In the midst of their captivity and in the face of what could be seen by some as God forsaking them, Jeremiah speaks on behalf of God and tells his countrymen that God has not only not forgotten them, but has actually used this as a part of His plan.  Seriously- are you kidding me?!  If I'm one of the Israelites reading this letter, I am prone to believe that it's a bunch of bull because the God who delivered Moses and their predecessors is the same God who called Abram out of nothing to become their forefather, is the same God who spoke to Jacob in a dream, but somehow wants me to believe that this whole exile thing is part of the "plan" He has for me?  That's difficult to swallow at best, absolutely ludicrous (as in Jeremiah is off his rocker) at worst.  But it gets better...


When you back up and read the entire chapter, and interesting concept comes into view.  As Jeremiah writes this to the captive Israelites, he tells them to do something that is utterly ridiculous.  He tells them to suck it up and deal.  In the face of their captivity, and with the knowledge that God is perfectly capable of delivering them, Jeremiah says to not hope for their deliverance, specifically he says “Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce.Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren. Multiply! Do not dwindle away!"  Really Jeremiah- multiply (insert Bebe's Kids reference)?  Here's the problem with this whole thing- God SHOULD be setting his people free...right?  I mean, we sang that old spiritual about going way down in Egypt land and you're telling me to stay?  More than that, you're telling me to have GRANDKIDS?!  This is a problem because (if I were the Israelites) I want out.  I want to return to a land of milk and honey.  I want fatted calfs and to worship my God in the place that I see fit, how I see fit to do it.  But, instead, I'm being told to kick back and embrace my captive state.  I'm essentially told to like it.  So, the next question I find myself asking is why.


Jeremiah goes on to say in verse 7, "And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare."  As if it weren't bad enough that they had to live in exile, now God is asking them to pray that their captors prosper and live at peace with their enemies- the same enemies who could (ostensibly) set the captive Israelites free if a war were to break out.  This is part of God's plan?  I would find that difficult to believe, but there it is plain as day in Jeremiah's letter... crap.


Now comes the part we all know too well:


10 This is what the Lord says: “You will be in Babylon for seventy years. But then I will come and do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again. 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. 12 In those days when you pray, I will listen. 13 If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me. 14 I will be found by you,” says the Lord. “I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will gather you out of the nations where I sent you and will bring you home again to your own land.”


But notice something interesting, specifically the usage of the phrase "but then" in verse 10.  It implies that God will only do for the Israelites all that comes after once all that comes before has been done.  The usage of the conjunction (see here for more info) then denotes that the blessing spoken of in verse 11 can only happen if and when the captives are for their captors.  Peace and God's purpose for the Israelites can only be found when Peace and God's purpose for their enemies is sought.  So, this is what we're in for?  With all the experience we have with God delivering those that came before us, we're supposed to sit back and take on the chin the fact that God won't be delivering us right now?  We're supposed to accept that God will deliver, not our children, but our grandchildren, and that all of this captivity is for a reason?  This too is a problem.


It's a problem because, like so many of us, I have prayed to be delivered from situations.  I have earnestly sought the Lord, asking for His salvation from what I perceived as a "bad place" and believing that I had found myself in that place because of some enemy that God wanted to show Himself strong against.  But what if that's not entirely the case?  What if my being in the camp of my enemy is instead so that I can pray for their success?  What if my purpose amongst those that would take my life is not to pray for their ruin, but for their good- to pray for their salvation instead of their damnation?  What if God is "preparing a table in the presence of my enemies" (Psalm 23:5) not so I can show off and snub my nose, but rather so that I can show them the faithfulness of God that is available even to them, and in so doing expose them to His grace and love so that they can be changed.  What if my captivity is a part of Him showcasing His divinity?  What if the experience(s) I have in the place of my captivity is so that my expected end can be to show love to those that may not deserve it?  What if that love changes the(ir) world?


My natural response would be "well crap- I wanted them to suffer and be taught a lesson"  To that Jesus would reply, "I suffered enough, show grace."  Ouch.


I've got more thoughts on Experience vs Expectation coming tomorrow (or whenever I remember to post again).


Pursue.  Original.
-Damany

The Miracle on the Way

Matthew 9 is an interesting chapter. Jesus is finally home, amongst his people and in his own city. One would think that it would be a joyous return, a triumphal entry of sorts of the son that has gone off and done great things in the world (as they knew it), and has now come back for a time to be amongst His people. But, as far too many of us know, returning home to accomplish things is often exponentially more difficult than attempting to do things elsewhere. It seems as if nothing He does is good enough, and whether He sits with sinners or saints, He is destined to face ridicule for it. It almost seems like this is the type of environment where you pack up and tell everyone, "forget it, I can do nothing for you people." But Jesus didn't. He stayed, and faced further scrutiny, perhaps in the hope that people would get the point, or perhaps to point out a critical lesson to us.

Verse 18 starts the story of the ruler who comes to Jesus and asks that He come to his house to heal his daughter. Without hesitation Jesus gets up, His disciples in tow, and heads to this man's house. One would argue that the reason such haste was taken was because of this man's stature. That he was a man of prominence that Jesus respected as a former resident of this town, but there really isn't enough there to speculate about that (even though I just did). Either way, he isn't the point of this post. What happens next is.

As Jesus is on His way to this ruler's house, a woman sneaks up behind him and says to herself that, essentially, this is her last hope. She has been struggling with a medical condition for over a decade, and as one can imagine, is about to give up hope. This is it for her and she clearly has put a lot of stock in this man from her home town who seems to have the power to heal, and as we saw earlier- save. So, pushing through the crowd, she reaches out her hand, risking ridicule, and possible pain for the chance to just touch Him. Verse 20 says it like this: "And behold, a woman who had suffered from a discharge of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment." The fringe. The very edge of His garment. She could get no closer than to touch the tips of the outer edge of His clothes. Whether it be because the crowd was too deep, or her shame too great, she couldn't or wouldn't get any closer. She believed in Christ's power to save and heal, but couldn't bring herself to, as so many others had done, push through face Him. She was content to, for whatever reason, stay on the outskirts of Christ's reality and that be enough for her.

Let's start there. For how many of us is this true? How many of us are so ashamed of our pasts that we dare not push into where Christ can see us face to face, and we see Him in all his glory, for fear of what our past and our histories will show about us? How many of us sit and reach for the fringes because the forefront of His love is (in our minds) too terrifying and embarrassing? Surely our issue is so big that it occludes His willingness to reach out His hand. Or surely we would face too much ridicule to allow the possibility of total healing to be completely worth it. But, if this woman is any indication- even on the fringes Christ is aware of our struggles, and pushing past our insecurities and our seeming inadequacies, he pulls us full into view of His face and tells us we're whole. Jesus stopped and looked at the woman. He acknowledged her in full view of everyone and told her that she was "made well."

That brings me to the second point- Jesus' acknowledgment. Jesus was on the way to the house of an important man in His hometown. As stated earlier, it is presumable that this was a man everyone knew and there was some haste in making the way to this home. But He stopped. In the midst of His rush to aid this man of stature and prominence, He took the time to reach out to someone of absolutely no importance and elevate her to a place where everyone could see and acknowledge her. In the midst of pushing towards a miracle that would elevate His ministry, He stopped to speak life and grace to a woman who could do nothing more than stand on the outskirts hoping for a miracle in passing. This was a woman who wasn't bold enough to push to the front of the line. A woman who knew that the man she was reaching out to was important and about important things, and was headed to the house of another important person. This was a woman who saw her place in the world as being at the back of the line with no hope of pushing forward. But God saw her, felt her need and healed her pain. God stopped, stooped down, picked her up and changed her life. But would I?

Would I stop moving forward in the pursuit of my dream or vision to stoop down and help? Would I reach out my hand to someone that could do nothing for me save offer thanks? Would I stop the pursuit of the important to embrace the hurting, or would I be too busy? Would I be so consumed with looking forward that I would ignore the gentle tugging at my heart that bid me look down? Where would my eyes be fixed? Would I look ahead, blind and oblivious to all the hurt around me, or would I find my eyes looking where Jesus did. If prominence set before me, would I be focused on it or the poverty surrounding me?

I saw a man in the cold today and it hurt my heart. He stood on the corner of a major intersection asking for help from strangers. Sure, he may have been gaming the system, he may have been a drug addict, and he may have been lazy and unwilling to get a job. But he may not have been. I could have kept driving and ignored him, my car heater buzzing with a warmth that he would not get to experience. But I didn't. I stopped and looked for a blanket, and finding none, I offered him what little I did have- change from a cup holder. He looked at me and in earnest said, "Thank you sir. My name is David, please keep me in your prayers. What's your name?" Damany. "Damany, you'll be in my prayers tonight as well. God bless." And that day He did. That day, God stooped down and ministered to the lowliest of those who were blind to their situation and undeserving of grace. That day, the prayers of a man were answered and God saved and healed. That day, God answered David's prayers...for me, and I am made better for David stopping, leaning down and ministering grace.

You can't save all, but you can fight to save one. Where's your fight today?

At this moment

At this moment, lives are being destroyed and I don't care.

As I sit comfortably encased in my air conditioned haven, the lives of
those I've not yet and may never meet are being ripped apart by an
evil I've not been willing to confront. On the other side of the
world, and the other side of the city live those for whom my "basics"
are luxuries. As I sit furiously typing away on a device no bigger
than my hand, the heart of a savior is broken as he watches those for
whom he died destroyed by those who would choose to play god. And I
sit and do nothing.

As I ponder deeply and pontificate endlessly about that which must
change, there are those who slowly descend into the reality and the
knowledge that change, for them, will never come; and as my eyes blur
with the tears of pains for that which I've never experienced while my
heart breaks for someone I've yet to meet I realize- I don't care. I
mean clearly that's true. How else would it be possible to continue
daily in this knowledge and not seek change? How else could I rail
against the sub-luxury standards of my life while others live in the
sub-human conditions of theirs? How could I stand (ok, lay) here and
not be moved by what I know about this moment?

I don't know what any of this means beyond a broken heart, but I at
least know that much. I know that living in a world fractured by sin
is the reason the fight exists, but I also know that the fight can
only be won if we engage beyond our phosphourescent screens and lofty
ideals. Life only comes when you are willing to run into the midst of
death and say that enough is enough; when you are willing to stand
between the living and the dead and speak life. I've never been one
for missions. I don't know why. Perhaps some innate sense of
northeastern American entitlement left me believing that it wasn't my
job. But now I ask, "why not?" Why can't I be the one who decides that
for the 2, 5, 20, or 1,000 I can reach and change I will? Is all I do
the answer? No. But I, when choosing to engage, am part of a solution
that needs me. If we are the hands and feet of God and change, what
happens if I refuse to do my job? What happens if I don't bring my
gifts to the table and ask for them to be used? What happens if I do
nothing.

Better yet, what happens if I start right now?

--
Sent from my mobile device

Pursue. Original.
-Damany