Words from WW Blog

 “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”

 “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” (Mark 10:36-38)

It’s intriguing how the seemingly insignificant things we say have a way of standing out more in our minds than the most profound, wise words of great insight. Like when I tried to impress my sixth-grade friend by calling a fifth-grade teacher “an old bag” as she was leaving school on a Friday afternoon. Not long after that I was experiencing an intense heat on a certain part of my body thanks to our principal, a man named Shirley Morton (“Don’t call me Shirley. Yes, Mr. Morton!”) Even though that was almost sixty years ago, I remember the scene, the iron fence that bordered the school playground, and Mr. Morton’s powerful swing, probably made even more painful by the fact that it happened after school on a Friday afternoon.

Our dumb words said or done become like Jeopardy categories in our mind: “I’ll take Dumb Things Said To Girls for $100.” Or, “Let me try Idiotic Pranks Gone Awry for $200.”

Quite frankly, Jesus had a bookload of dumb things said to him. Instead of “Dad Jokes,” they could be called “Dumb Jokes.”

For instance, how about Martha, whining to Jesus about her sister, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself. Tell her, then, to help me.” (Luke 10:40) I’ve known a few church people who have berated others for what doing the work that only they thought was important.

Or there’s James and John, on a mission to impress the Son of God and asking Jesus, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” Their words came after a Samaritan village did not welcome Jesus. Jesus rebuked them for their words. What must it have felt like to be rebuked by Jesus after saying something that you thought was a good suggestion, and then came to figure out that it was a dumb idea?

The Pharisees and teachers of the law always seemed to have been chomping on chewable dumb tablets. It seems that the only people who are not listed in the dumb book are children and most of the people that Jesus healed, many of them social outcasts.

So I realize that my tendency to “dumb down my words” puts me in a vast company of others. I keep searching my mind for something wise-worthy, but I keep coming up empty. As a result, I keep going to scripture and finding a verse that needs to be underlined or words said by Eugene Peterson or Philip Yancey that resonate in a sweet way like strawberry preserves on a hot homemade biscuit.

On the positive, whenever I get a little too uppity, I remember one of the dumb things I said in the past seven decades, and it humbles me back to reality. And, boy howdy, there’s a lot of material there to be humbled by!

“As he walked along, he saw Levi, son of Alphaeus, sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him.” (Mark 2:14)

One of my neighbors is recovering from a fall. His daily physical therapy now entails a walk around the block, his walker moving slowly in front of him, and his eyes on sidewalk cracks and unevenness that could suddenly trip him up. Ralph is in his mid-eighties, delightful to talk to, and a retired Navy officer.

This morning I had the privilege of going with him on his walk. The lady who normally walks with him (also a neighbor and retired nurse) had planned an out-of-town trip and asked me if I would pinch-hit, or maybe pinch-walk, for her.

As I reflected on our neighborhood journey, it occurred to me that it probably resembled what it was like to walk with Jesus. Ralph was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but he stopped several times in our stroll to talk to people. He talked to the water sprinkler repair person, he talked to his neighbor across the street, and, a while later, to the neighbor’s spouse and son. He spoke with the man who was coming out to retrieve his empty trash can and also with another person as they drove by.

In essence, a walk with Ralph was not so much about where we were going but rather who we met along the way. It wasn’t about the destination, but rather the dialogue and discussion as we went. I envision a walk with Jesus being like that. In our hurry-up world, we miss the calm moments that are the most meaningful. I remember walking with my dad in the last couple of years of his life. He was to the point where he shuffled his feet as he walked, slow and steady, never rushing to get to wherever we were going. The best part of that was not where we were heading to, but rather the walk along the way.

Jesus talked as he walked. He taught as he made his way to the next town. People joined him in the journey as he progressed. Some of his most powerful and meaningful conversations came as he walked.

I was on the receiving end of Ralph’s neighborhood education. He knows all his neighbors. As he walked, he’d tell me about a neighbor’s family, occupation, how long they had lived there, what they lke to do, where they’ve been, and interesting things he’s learned about them.

Just like Jesus. Jesus knew the people who walked with him, and Jesus knows each one of us. When we walk through our days at hyper-speed, we’re prone to miss the greatest blessings of God and others.

“My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love!” (1 John 4:11-12, The Message)

We have a hard time with the word “love.” It’s so sweet but, at the same time, so demanding. When it’s authentic, it causes us to tremble with emotion and delight. When it feels fake, we feel cheated and demeaned.

We find ways to devalue its power by saying things like, “I love to find the fault in others” or “I love it when she gets angry.” The power that love holds gets snatched away by our lust for retribution. There’s an evil that creeps into what God intended for our wellbeing.

I can expect to see that in the world. The world is screwed up and clueless. When a youth baseball coach tells his catcher to jump out of the way of a pitch and let it hit the home plate umpire, simply because he doesn’t like the previous call…that is a sign of the world’s twisted take on life. The cheering and jeering parents are an indication that their kids will grow up to be as twisted as they are.

If we can’t get a good understanding of love by watching what happens in the world, where can we find it? According to John, the answer is by keeping a close eye on the followers of Jesus who live in community together. Not that they necessarily live together in a commune, but their lives are intermeshed in significant relational ways.

John says that Jesus’ followers will experience the deepness of God’s presence and the completeness of His creation of love in its purest form as they love one another. It’s an agape love and a Philadelphia kind of love. It’s a love that looks outward as it looks inward.

Honestly, too many churches have missed the opportunity of that Godly love because we (Yes, I’m on that train, also!) mirror the world more than Jesus. We find ourselves arguing and becoming disgusted with the lack of main entrees at the potluck, the length of the pastor’s sermon, and the empty toilet paper container. Grace has left the building, pulled by the hand of love looking for somewhere else to hang out for a while.

On the other hand, when a community of believers gets it right. That is, they nail their calling and cradle the opportunity to be the depository of God’s loving presence…Wow! Ain’t that something to behold?

As John writes, that kind of love is complete and even…get this!…perfect. How many things in our world these days can be listed in the perfect column? My Bluebell Ice Cream can’t even be written there. The beautiful and heartwarming wedding ceremony is still a bit short of that status. My straight-A report card can’t even be listed as perfect. First of all, because it never happened, and secondly, it’s a standard based on achievement, not commitment.

In the chaos of our culture, does the church have a voice that speaks out of the depths of God’s love?