Shepherds

Shepherds

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.

This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.
(Luke 2:8-12)

Most everyone knows this passage, even if they’ve never cracked open a Bible, because each December, in between scenes of the Grinch slithering around Whoville, or George Bailey being saved by Clarence (just as he’s about to jump off the Bedford Falls bridge), or Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer running around the North Pole with Herbie (an elf who wants to become a dentist. Yes, a dentist. I know), we have Linus, who discovers the true meaning of Christmas in the gospel of Luke. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love Linus as much as the next guy. But has popular culture made this story .… ummmm …. well …. too familiar? Maybe.

You see, the story begins with God sending out a birth announcement. In fact, there’s only one announcement of Christ’s birth recorded in the Scriptures, and there’s only one invitation from God to anyone to come see his newborn Son. And God puts the wrong address on the envelope – he sends the announcement, first class, to a bunch of uneducated, smelly, low-class, social and religious dropouts: shepherds. And they’re the last people you’d expect God to have on his mailing list.

They were the religious outcasts of their day. According to Jewish law, these men were always religiously unclean because their line of work prevented them from going to church. But who was going to watch the sheep while everyone else made the trip to Jerusalem to make sacrifices at the temple? That didn’t matter. They were doing the dirty work so the churchy could pretend to be holy. They were kind of like truckers, or maybe shift workers, whose jobs keep them from regularly attending church. It wasn’t their fault, you know, but who cares if you’re one of the pretty people.

Shepherds were also social outcasts. They were constantly on the move and viewed with suspicion – kind of like how we might look at carnies. They were often accused of thievery, and weren’t allowed to testify in court since their word wasn’t considered trustworthy. (That’s a polite way of calling them liars) Making matters worse, they had more contact with sheep than with people. They didn’t even come home at night since they were with the sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Worse yet, they slept in the sheep’s pen at night to guard against theft and attack. You wouldn’t want your daughter marrying a shepherd.

So, imagine you’re God and you want to announce the most amazing, most incredible, most joyous news ever; an event that will change the course of human history – the birth of the Savior, the one for whom the nation of Israel had been waiting and hoping and praying for thousands of years to arrive. So, who do you announce it to? Who do you tell? Who do you invite to come and see? Probably not a shepherd.

When Princess Diana’s sons, Harry and William, were born, they didn’t send a messenger down to the docks to break the news to the stevedores. They didn’t issue personal invitations to a bunch of London cabbies to come see Diana and her new infant at Windsor castle. If any announcements or invitations were sent out, they were probably printed in gold leaf and hand delivered to political leaders and foreign heads of state.

The point is that you would expect an event like the birth of Christ to be announced to the most important people in the nation. You know, the political, religious and military leaders? The hoi polloi. The media. (Can’t forget the media) But none of them got the text, or the e-mail, or the tweet, or the whatever. Oh, some foreign wise guys figured it out by following the star to Bethlehem, and then they informed Herod of what they’d heard. But they didn’t get an angelic messenger, or angel choir, or an invitation either. Only the social and religious outcasts got the memo. It’s as if the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsed all year to perform Handel’s Messiah in front of a handful of street urchins sitting on the curb.

Why? Why did God send His angels to announce the birth of Christ to a bunch of misfits? I mean, were the shepherds especially pious, or unusually holy? Maybe they got the MVP for believers since they’d been locked out of church by the church police. Or, maybe they were expecting this thing to happen. Or, maybe they were part of the Occupy Grasslands movement. The truth is they probably thought that God had no idea who they were. And why would he? They don’t sacrifice at the temple; they don’t show up for the feasts; they don’t go to church; and their deepest theological discussions are with a bunch of sheep. So why them?

Maybe it was because God wanted to demonstrate, first to the shepherds, that his love doesn’t discriminate on the basis of class, or wealth, or social standing. God doesn’t discriminate on the basis of intelligence, education, profession, political power, or any other quality that we can think of. God doesn’t respect kings more than cabbies, or priests more than pew potatoes. He’s kind of indiscriminate that way.

Paul makes the same point in his first letter to the Corinthians where he says, "My dear friends, remember what you were when God chose you. The people of this world didn't think that many of you were wise. Only a few of you were in places of power, and not many of you came from important families. But God chose the foolish things of this world to put the wise to shame. He chose the weak things of this world to put the powerful to shame. What the world thinks is worthless, useless, and nothing at all is what God has used to destroy what the world considers important. God did all this to keep anyone from bragging to him. You are God's children. He sent Christ Jesus to save us and make us wise, acceptable, and holy. So if you want to brag, do what the Scriptures say and brag about the Lord." (1 Cor. 1:26-31)

I imagine that many nights, as the shepherds sat in those cold, lonely fields, they looked out over the village and saw the lights of the homes. They heard the faint sound of families, people laughing, and wished they could be a part of that. Maybe you’ve felt that way too. Maybe you’re not one of the “pretty people.” Maybe you’re not particularly wealthy, or powerful, or influential. Maybe you’ll never see your name in the paper for some great accomplishment. Maybe you’re on the fringes, either socially or religiously. And when you compare your level of religious observance to others, the comparison doesn’t stack up too well: spotty church attendance, little Bible reading, infrequent prayer. You think that if God actually knows that you exist, he couldn’t be very favorably impressed.

If this strikes a chord, then I’ve got good news. Great news. The best news possible. God loves you – just like He loved those shepherds. You’re special to him – just like those shepherds were special to him. So special, in fact, that he gave them the incredible privilege of being the first to hear of Christ’s birth and, other than Mary and Joseph, the first to lay eyes on the Son of God.

God didn’t give those privileges to the Roman Caesar, or to the Jewish high priest. He gave it to the shepherds. Not in spite of who they were, but because of who they were: humble, ordinary people with few opinions about themselves. Simple people who were willing to believe what God told them, and when they heard the news they didn’t seek out the religious professionals for a second opinion. When they were invited to visit Bethlehem to see the newborn Messiah, they didn’t worry about who was going to watch the sheep. They didn’t get bogged down in debates about how they were going to find such a small baby in such a large town. They simply obeyed and went.

God likes to use the ordinary so that, like a mirror, his power can be reflected in his creation. I know, I know. God didn’t send an angel to give you the news, either. But, he sent Word. Haven’t you read the invitation? Here’s what it says: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) Don’t let the simple yet profound message of Christmas be lost on you this season: God knows you – and loves you anyway.

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Grace,

Randy

Wise Guys

Wise Guys

"Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying, ’Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.’ When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. So they said to him, "In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it is written by the prophet: ’But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, Are not the least among the rulers of Judah; For out of you shall come a Ruler Who will shepherd My people Israel.’ Then Herod, when he had secretly called the wise men, determined from them what time the star appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem and said, ’Go and search carefully for the young Child, and when you have found Him, bring back word to me, that I may come and worship Him also.’ When they heard the king, they departed; and behold, the star which they had seen in the East went before them, till it came and stood over where the young Child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceedingly great joy. And when they had come into the house, they saw the young Child with Mary His mother, and fell down and worshiped Him. And when they had opened their treasures, they presented gifts to Him: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Then, being divinely warned in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed for their own country another way." (Matthew 2:1-12)

I think the story of the wise men is kind of mysterious, don’t you? However, traditions, like party-poopers, have attempted to take all the mystery out of this encounter – which is recorded only in the book of Matthew. For instance, the Magi are commonly referred to as both wise men and kings. But these guys were no kings. The word itself, magi, is the Latin version of the plural Greek word, magos. But magos is from an Old Persian word maguŝ which is taken from the Avestan (an eastern Iranian language), magâunô. Got all that? Uh-huh, sure.

Anyway, the magâunô were a religious, priestly caste who paid very close attention to the stars and had gained an international reputation for astrology – a belief that by studying the stars (astronomy) you could predict the future and explain the present. At that time, astrology was big. I mean, it was a science! So, the magâunô’s religious practices, including their use of astrology, resulted in the term magi being used to describe the occult. Hence, the English word “magic.”

And the phrase from the East? Well, that's the only information Matthew gives us about where these guys came from. Traditionally, the view developed that they were Babylonians (present day Turkey), or Persians (present day Iran), or Jewish men from Yemen. However, the majority believe that they were probably from Babylon, which - at least at that time - was the center of astrology. (Go figure! Daniel connected with the Wise Guys? Really?)

         Three gifts are also identified in Matthew, i.e., gold, frankincense and myrrh.  Now, there’s a lot of theories about the meaning and symbolism of these gifts, but they’re generally lumped into two, major categories.  The first grouping suggests that all three gifts were offerings and gifts that would, typically, have been given to a king: myrrh being commonly used as an anointing oil; frankincense as a perfume; and gold as a valuable. The other line of thought suggests that the three gifts had a spiritual meaning: gold as a symbol of kingship on earth; frankincense as a symbol of the priesthood; and myrrh (an embalming oil) as a symbol of death. In fact, these spiritual interpretations are alluded to in the verses of the popular Christmas Carol, We Three Kings, circa 1857. (Pssssst! It was 3 gifts not 3 kings; we don’t know how many wise men actually showed up. And they’re not kings! Sorry)

Regardless of your take on popular traditions, I think you’d have to admit that these guys were men of faith, don’t you think? I mean, what would prompt someone to leave the comfort of their own home to go on a dangerous trip? Romance? Maybe. Wealth? Probably. But faith? Really? Remember, this was a journey of close to 900 miles. In those days, it might as well have been 9,000 miles, or 9,000,000 miles since traveling that kind of distance could have taken as long as a year.

Their question though, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews?” is really pretty probing, don’t you think? I mean, there’s no doubt from their question that they believed that Jesus had been born, right? So, the real question was, “Where is He?”  Better yet, these guys had seen a star. And, being the astrologers that they were, this sign fascinated them and confirmed what they’d heard. So, their evidence was real, too. In other words, they had faith that the Christ child existed. Now, all they had to do was find Him and, apparently, they were willing to risk everything to do just that.

Speaking of risk, did you happen to catch the name of the guy to whom the wise guys asked their question? Yep, good ol’ king Herod, himself. A real peach of a guy. He suffered from depression and paranoia. As a result, he saw a conspiracy around every corner and under every rug. Being a career politician, he didn’t want to lose his job to some upstart, so he simply “eliminated” his challengers. This included his first wife, three of his sons, and one of his sons-in-law. Yeah, a real charmer.

This is the same guy who, when his kingdom was running a little short on cash, didn’t bother raising taxes or printing more money. No, Herod had a better idea. He simply went to the source and invited 45 of the country’s wealthiest families (all members of the Jewish Sanhedrin) to Jerusalem for the weekend and threw them a huge party. The guests had the time of their lives. Good thing, because Herod’s parting gift at this killer party was the ordering of their immediate execution and the seizure of their estates. (How’s that for a charitable fundraiser?)

As Herod’s life was drawing to a close, he became concerned that no one would actually mourn his death. (Can you imagine?) So, he commanded a large group of distinguished men to come to his palace in Jericho, at which time he ordered the men imprisoned and sentenced to death when Herod died. That way, Herod figured, there’d be plenty of grieving – if not for him, at least in general. Fortunately, Herod’s son, Archilaus, and his sister, Salome, didn’t carry out their dad’s wish.

So, you can imagine Herod’s response when the wise men asked, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews,” especially when Herod considered himself a Jew. So, here’s Herod, a crazed, conspiracy-theorist who’s asked, “Where’s the King, king?” by a bunch of smart aleck foreigners. “Uh, fellas? You know that King thing you’re asking about? Well, that king would be ME!” Given the wise guys that they were, they probably quit asking questions and called a cab for the six mile drive to Bethlehem. (Maybe now you can see why Herod had no problem ordering that all male children under two (2) years old, in and around Bethlehem, be killed. For Herod, it was all in a day’s work.  Yep, Herod was a real piece of work. That’s why the wise men went home another way, and Joseph, Mary and Jesus took a train to Egypt)

So, can you imagine the neighbor’s reaction when the wise men were getting ready to head out and go to Jerusalem? Maybe it went something like this: “Hey, John, looks like you’re gettin’ ready to go on a trip somewhere.” “Yeah, I am.” “Cool. Where ya goin’?” “I’m not really sure.” “OK. Well, how far are you gonna go on this trip? I mean, are you goin’ cross-town or are you going, let’s say, cross-country?” “Well, I don’t really know the answer to that one, either.” “Hummmmm. OK. Well then, do you know how long you’ll be gone?” “Unfortunately, I’m not too sure about that one as well.” “You know, John, for a ‘wise man,’ you don’t know much, do you?”

Of  course, this wouldn't be the first time that people questioned an act of faith. For instance, people must have said some pretty similar things to Abraham when he left his home and family for a place that God would eventually show him. (Acts 7:2-3) But God's journeys always involve faith. In fact, the Hebrew writer says in Hebrews 11:6 that "It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him." The Bible is full of stories of people of faith who have been willing to respond to the challenges of the unknown.

          Interestingly, journeys of faith always produce worship. In our story, the wise men’s journey was for the express purpose of worship. They brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh didn’t they? And these gifts had a worshipful purpose. Gold represented wealth – a gift fit for the King of kings. Frankincense was the sap of a tree that had been dried, hardened and used as incense to worship God – a fitting gift for the Son of God, our High Priest. Myrrh is a fragrant perfume that was used to anoint and embalm Jesus – the sacrificial Lamb of God.

But isn’t there more to worship than gift giving like presents of gold, frankincense, and myrrh? Doesn’t it also involve sacrifice? These men had devoted themselves to go on a journey to an unknown location, at an unknown distance, for an unknown period of time. And, don’t forget – travel in those days was not very comfortable and could be downright dangerous. Nevertheless, the wise men sacrificed their own comfort to find the King and to worship Him.

“OK, OK. But, I don’t have anything to give Him.” That’s not true. For instance, where were you last Sunday, or maybe mid-week. Maybe church, or a small group Bible study? You’ve given Him something of yourself haven’t you? Yep, you’ve given your time.

For instance, last Sunday, maybe you prepared for worship by getting up (you could’ve slept in), getting dressed (you could’ve stayed home in your robe and slippers) and getting ready to seek a King (you could’ve decided to go without a shower, or a shave, or even makeup. Oh, my!). So, you got in your car, used your gas and went to worship.

See, when you come, you come as a living sacrifice even though you may not see it that way. Maybe you didn’t even realize it. The effort you make to worship God is a part of your sacrifice to Him. But what God wants most of all, more than your sacrifice, is … you! He wants your heart. He wants your attention. He wants your dependence on Him. So the question becomes, “What are you willing to give Him?” Are you willing to give Him your best? Are you willing to go on a spiritual journey to worship Him? Are you willing to give up your comfort zone to follow Christ? The wise men were. How ‘bout you?

But along with the journey, and the worship and the sacrifice, a wise man’s journey is also one of change. Isn’t it interesting that after the wise men worshiped Jesus they couldn’t go back the same way they came? That’s true even today. Once you’ve met God you’ll never be the same. An encounter with God changes things – it changes you – doesn’t it? It’s always been that way.

And that’s what happens when we walk into the presence of God. We’re changed. That’s what happened to the wise men when they encountered Christ – they were changed. And that’s what happens when we encounter Christ – things become different.

So, we hear the story of the wise men around this time of the year. But this season, consider that maybe, just maybe, they were wise because they had faith; they were wise because they worshiped and, as a result, their lives were changed forever. All because of a child.

How about you? Are you looking for a change in your life? Find Christ this Christmas and you’ll be changed; things will be different. Step out in faith and seek Him as the wise men did. It’s the wisest decision you’ll ever make.

Merry Christmas!

Grace,

Randy

Born In a Barn

Born In a Barn

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.

This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.
(Luke 2:8-12)

Ever hear the expression, “Were you born in a barn?” I did a little research and there are two theories on the origin of that phrase. The first is from a blog by Amanda Thomson who suggests that it was originally, “Were you born in Bardney?” Bardney is the site of the Tupholme Abbey in Lincolnshire, England. Apparently, when the King, Saint Oswald, was killed, his followers tried to bring his bones to the abbey, but the monks kept the doors shut. During the night, however, a pillar of light shone from the cart of bones, convincing the monks that Oswald was indeed a saint and that they’d been wrong to shut out the cart with his bones. Legend has it that, forever after, the monks left their gates wide open. So, the phrase that developed, “Do you come from Bardney?” means that you’ve left the door open.

Of course, it’s also possible that the phrase’s original question was, in fact, “Were you born in a barn?” It was a custom to leave barn doors open in the early morning to let the cows out to pasture, and they stayed open all day until the cows were herded back to the barn for milking again in the early evening. Hence, leaving the door open.

I heard it when I tracked mud on the carpet.

My youngest son, William, was born in one of those birthing suites. He had the good fortune of being born at a time when they were just coming into vogue. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Maybe you’ve even been in one before. Yeah, it’s those comfortable, clean, warm and brightly lit rooms where the entire family can be present for the birth, surrounded by the latest in medical technology. It was exactly the sort of place where you'd want your baby to be born.

But Jesus? Not so much. He wasn’t born in one of those immaculate birthing suites. He was born in a barn and laid in a manger – a place where they feed animals. And the question is, “Why?” I mean, of all the places he could’ve been born, why was he born in a barn with a manger as his cradle? And you know me. I ponder these things, especially during this time of year. (Maybe it’s because I was born in a barn; I don’t know)

But it got me to thinking. Maybe Jesus was born in a barn and laid in a manger to fulfill the scriptures. You know, the prophecies in the Old Testament predicting his coming? The problem is there are no prophecies in the Old Testament about the Messiah being born in a barn. Hmmm.

So, then I thought that, well, since Jesus is called the “Good Shepherd,” maybe he was born in a place cut out for shepherds. Now, it's true that shepherds would often take shelter out in the fields, like in a stable, to avoid the elements. But that kind of place was usually a cave of some sort, and shepherds didn’t live there they just took shelter there. And they certainly didn’t give birth there. I mean, shepherds were social outcasts and all, and they were the poorest of the poor, but even a shepherd wouldn’t be born in a manger. (Ahem, … in a barn. Sorry)

And then it came to me. The obvious answer is provided by the story itself: Jesus was born in a barn and placed in a manger because there was no room at the inn! Yeah, that’s it. You know. It wasn't something that was planned – it was just an accident. Jesus was a preemie! But then I got to thinking that in the life of Christ there were no accidents – everything was planned. Everything. Down to the last detail. Before the beginning of time. OK, then why the manger?

Well, if you take stock of a real manger, a few things stand out. First, a manger can be cold. And if you subscribe to Jesus being born during an Israeli winter, it’s that damp sort of cold that chills you to the bone. Further, the only heat source would have been the body heat coming from the cows when they came in to feed, and their breath. But in winter, their breath would have made for a cloud of steam that, given the right conditions, could freeze, mid-air.

A manger’s dark, too. In fact, most mangers were located underground, in a cave or below the house it served. So, even when the sun’s shining, it's dark in there. And, perhaps stating the obvious, a manger is filthy: it's full of slobber, drool, mud, dust and cobwebs. It smells bad, too. There's no such thing as a clean or hygienic manger.

At Christmas time, however, we tend to romanticize the manger. We turn it into something beautiful and heavenly – a first century birthing suite of sorts. But a real manger just isn't like that. The truth is that Jesus was laid in a place that was cold, dark, dirty and smelly. But again, why? I mean, if Jesus was God Incarnate, God with skin on, couldn’t He have picked a better spot than a filthy feeding trough – a mangy manger?

Maybe it’s because Jesus is always born in a manger. Huh?

You see, when Jesus comes into our lives, he’s born in a manger of sorts because the human heart is just like one. Our hearts are cold because we don’t know the love of God; our hearts are dark because we don’t have the light of Christ, or the hope of salvation; and our hearts are dirty because we are stained and soiled by sin. But the miracle of Christmas is that Jesus is willing to be born into hearts just like that! No matter how cold and dark and dirty our hearts may be, Jesus is willing to come in and be born – born in the manger of our lives.

His birth, and where he laid, reminds us that Jesus always meets us at the manger. He encounters us in that place where we feel utterly lost, hopeless and helpless. He meets us in the darkness of our grief and sorrow, and he meets us in the blackness of our despair. He comes into our lives when we feel unloved, unlovable and alone – when inside we feel cold and half frozen to death. Jesus meets us in all the mess and filth of our sin – even those sins which we think are unforgivable.

A while back, I picked up a Newsweek and read an article about Anne Rice. She’s a famous novelist, and her books have sold 50 million copies the world over. Most of her books deal with the occult and vampires, like Interview with a Vampire. The article told the story of her life – how her mother died when she was still very young, and how she grew up afraid of the dark. Later on, she got married and gave birth to a baby girl named Michelle. But when Michelle was just a few years old, she died of leukemia. Crushed, Anne began drinking heavily and sank into a deep depression. So, she began writing about vampires as therapy because vampires, so they say, are able to live forever.

Her novels brought her wealth and fame, so much so that she bought a huge mansion in New Orleans and entertained her many guests with lavish parties. But then a strange thing happened. Anne began reading the Bible, including a number of Christian books. And even though she hadn't been to church since she was a little girl, she felt a strange longing to take communion. Then, in 1998, she renewed her faith in Jesus Christ, and in 2005 decided that she would no longer write about vampires. Describing that moment she said, “I was in church, talking to the Lord, saying, ‘I want everything I do to be for you.’ Then it hit me: ‘It will be for you. All of it. Every word.’” So, it should come as no surprise that when her autobiography, Called out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession (2008), was released, it rocked the publishing world; it was bordering on the inconceivable that Anne Rice, the queen of the vampires, was now a devout believer in Jesus Christ.

But then again, maybe that shouldn’t surprise us after all. Because Jesus is always born in the manger of dark, cold, and dirty hearts that long to be called out of darkness into light. Out of bondage into freedom. Out of fear and into joy. Out of self and into Christ.

Maybe being born in a barn isn’t so bad after all.

Grace,

Randy

Thankfulness

Thanksliving

Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him — and he was a Samaritan.

Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” (Luke 17:11-19)

It’s a tribute to modern medicine that most of us, fortunately, don’t know much about leprosy. (I’m just guessing that you’ve never seen or known a leper) So, what we know about the disease we only know from what we’ve read in the Bible. (OK, for the really curious, you can Google the words, Hansen’s disease) But if we had lived during those times, we probably would have known a whole lot more because it was the most feared disease in Bible times. It was deadly, incurable and hopeless. The ancients feared it so much that anyone suspected of having the disease was banished from society. In fact, in the rabbinic writings of the time, there are remedies for all kinds of diseases, but there’s nothing listed for leprosy. The rabbis said that curing leprosy was like “raising the dead.” Pretty grim stuff.

So, there’s Jesus, traveling near the border of Samaria and Galilee, and it’s there where he meets a group of lepers. We don’t know precisely where this encounter took place because you can’t even find the small town on a map. But it was somewhere south of Nazareth and north of Sychar.

And it’s no surprise that Jesus would encounter these unfortunate men between Galilee and Samaria. Galilee was Jesus’ home base. He was raised there. He had family and boyhood friends there. He made his headquarters at Capernaum on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Most of his miracles, and much of his teaching, was done in Galilee. It was the land of his greatest popularity. But Samaria? Well, that was another matter altogether.

You see, observant Jews avoided Samaria at almost all costs. The story goes back hundreds of years to the Assyrian captivity which began in 722 B.C. Some of the Jewish people had intermarried with the Assyrians and had become, in the eyes of their countrymen, half-breeds and traitors. In other words, they were unclean. Over the centuries, then, the Samaritans had become a mixed race with a mixed religion. The Jewish people hated the Samaritans, and the Samaritans’ feelings were mutual.

And it’s here, on the frontier between Galilee and Samaria, in the DMZ between the Jews and the Samaritans, that Jesus meets ten lepers. And frankly, where else could they go? The Jews didn’t want them and neither did the Samaritans. So, here’s a colony of lepers joined by their common misfortune and misery. Their only uniting characteristic is the foul disease that had cast them out of society. And, as Jesus enters the village, these men stand a long way off and cry out to him for mercy.

You see, word had spread. "He’s here,” said one of the lepers. “Who’s here?” said the other. “Jesus of Nazareth,” said the first. “Naw, I don’t believe it,” said his friend. “It’s true. He’s really here,” said the first. “Do you think he could heal us?” said another. “I don’t know. But let’s find out.” So, there they stand, the most ragged choir in all of Israel – ten lepers crying out to Jesus for mercy. “Have mercy. Have Mercy,” came the cry from lips that had seen too little mercy and too much condemnation.

So, what’s Jesus’ response? Will he heal them right then and there on the spot? That was certainly within his power, and no doubt was what the lepers had probably hoped he would do. But, instead, Jesus said something that, well … seems a little ….. unexpected. When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”

Now, at first glance, you might think that Jesus was simply putting them off. You might even think that he didn’t intend to heal them at all. And if you were to come to that conclusion, you could probably infer that Jesus meant to impress upon them the utter hopelessness of their condition. But all of those inferences would be wrong. As a matter of fact, Jesus fully intended to heal them, but he also intended to do it in keeping with the demands of the Law of Moses. You see, if Jesus hadn’t sent the lepers to the priest, no one would have ever believed that the miracle had really taken place.

But that’s not the whole story here. The last part of verse 14 says that “as they went they were cleansed.” In other words, they were healed as they went to go see the priest. Not before. Not after. That means that when they left to go see the priest, they still had leprosy. Now how do you suppose they felt when Jesus said, “Go show yourselves to the priest?” Go show what to the priest? That they were still lepers?! Are you kidding me? They didn’t have anything to show the priest that he wanted to see. In fact, the last thing the priest wanted to see was ten smelly, disheveled, deformed, wretched lepers. In fact, I wonder if one of them may have even said, “Why bother? After all, once a leper, always a leper.” But off they went, this shuffling band of sufferers marching off to see the priest, maybe even doubting their healing the entire way.

So, they take one step; they’re still lepers. They take two steps; nothing happens. They take a third step; the leprosy still clings to their skin. But on that fourth step, or maybe the fifth, or maybe the hundredth, something wonderful, something unbelievable, something they never dreamed possible happened. With that next step, they were healed. Instantly. Miraculously. All ten. All at once. They were healed as they went. Not before. Not after. But in the act of going they were healed. Why? Because it was the act of going that was an act of their faith. And it didn’t matter how they felt about it. God honored their going in spite of what may have been some serious doubts along the way.

Like the lepers, our faith moves mountains when our faith moves us. When Jesus said, “Go show yourselves the priest,” he was really saying, “Act as if you’re already healed.” What a great piece of advice! So many times we pray and pray and pray and nothing seems to happen. But when our faith, shaky though it may be, finally moves us to action, God honors it and answers begin to come.

Unfortunately, too many of us are trapped by the curse of passive religion. You know what that is, don’t you? It’s the view that says trusting God means letting him do it all. So, for instance, we pray, “Lord, I need money,” but we refuse to go out and look for a job. Passive religion uses God as an excuse to do nothing. But trusting God does not equal doing nothing. Remember: the ten lepers were healed as they went. It’s a marvelous miracle, but it’s not the end of the story. Another miracle is about to happen.

Ten were healed and only one came back to give thanks. Luke says he fell on his face before the Lord. He’s been healed of leprosy. For who knows how many years he’s been a leper living in his remote, little corner of the world, separated from his family, forgotten by his friends, cut off from his own people. But suddenly, the disease vanishes and with it the twisted limp, the crooked fingers and the atrophied muscles.

Then Luke adds, “He was a Samaritan.” The shock and amazement in that statement is such that we ought to read it this way: “Think of it! A Samaritan of all people!” Remember, Jesus was a Jew and the Jews thought Samaritans were half-breed traitors. To make matters worse, he was a Samaritan and a leper. To a Jew, you couldn’t find a more repulsive combination. He was from the wrong race, with the wrong religion, and he had the worst-possible disease. In religious speak, this Samaritan knew almost nothing, and what he knew was mostly wrong. But he knew Jesus had healed him, and he knew enough to be grateful to God. That statement is why, in my opinion, this story is in the Bible.

Now, Luke doesn’t say so directly, but I think he may have also been implying that the other nine were Jews. And if that’s true, then what this story really means is that those who should have been the most grateful weren’t. And the one man who shouldn’t have come back did. And this story pictures life as it really is. It’s a picture of the abundant grace of God. I mean, this is a wholesale cure – a whole hospital’s healed with only a word. Ten at a time. It’s a huge miracle. It’s also a picture of the prevalence of ingratitude. Nine out ten people will probably forget every blessing they’ve ever received. But it’s also a picture of unexpected grace. Grateful hearts, it seems, pop up where you least expect them.

Jesus then asks the Samaritan three questions. “Were there not ten healed?” Yes. “Where are the other nine?” Gone. “Is there no one here but this foreigner?” No one. And if you listen carefully, you can even sense a tinge of sadness in Jesus’ voice. He wanted to know about the others. Where are they? Weren’t they healed? Why didn’t they come back and say, “Thank You"? Good question. So, why didn’t they come back?

Well, maybe they were in a hurry to see the priest. Or, maybe they thought Jesus would be gone when they got back. Perhaps they assumed Jesus knew how grateful they were and they didn’t need to tell him what he already knew. I mean, he’s God after all. Or, maybe they were just too busy. So where are they now? Gone off with their blessings. Gone to see the priest. Gone to see their families. Gone with no word of thanks. Gone.

But when you really look at these ten lepers, they’re all alike aren’t they? All had leprosy. All were outcasts from society. All were determined to do something about it. All had heard about Jesus and believed he could help them. All appealed to him. All obeyed his word. All were healed. So, on the surface they appear to be identical. Yet what a difference. One returned. Nine went on. One was grateful. Nine were not. One man found forgiveness. Nine didn’t. One man got two miracles. Nine got one. All ten were healed. (That’s one miracle) But the Samaritan was healed and forgiven. (That’s two miracles) And that’s what Jesus meant when he said, “Your faith has made you well.”

So, the question remains: “Where are the nine?” The answer is they got what they wanted and then promptly left the building. Jesus performed a mighty miracle for them and they said, “Thanks, Lord. We can take it from here.” Sadly, that kind of attitude can be found in each one of us, even those who were raised in the church. The reason? Because we have so little appreciation for what God has done for us. We just don’t love the Lord that much, or just not enough to express gratitude for his blessings.

But isn’t gratitude the highest duty of the believer and the supreme virtue – the fountain from which all other blessings flow? Yes. But its corollary, ingratitude, is the leprosy of the soul. It eats away from the inside. It destroys our happiness, cripples our joy, withers our compassion, paralyzes our praise and renders us completely numb to all the blessings of God.

Every good thing in the Christian life flows from gratitude, or thankfulness. And when I realize the goodness of God – not in the abstract or in the theoretical, but personally – then (and only then) am I free to go, free to pray, free to tell, free to do, free to be. I don’t need to be coerced. I don’t need to be pressured. When we can finally look and see what God has done …. When we can count our many blessings and name them one by one .… When we can understand that every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father above .… When we can see that life itself comes gift-wrapped from on high …. When we know, really know, that all of life is God’s grace … then we begin to praise; we begin to give; we begin to sing; we begin to tell; we begin to serve; we begin to enter into the “Abundant Life.”

When we finally understand that we were born lepers, and then we see what Jesus has done for us, and when it finally breaks through that only by the grace of God do we have anything valuable at all, only then does life really begin to change. At that point, wonderful things begin to happen to us. What was duty is now privilege. What was law is now grace. What was demanded is now volunteered. What was forced is now free. What was drudgery is now joy. What was taken for granted is now offered up in praise to God. When it finally breaks through to us, then we come running, gladly, just like the leper.

Ten men were healed that day, but only one came back to give thanks. Which one are you? Far too many of us take our blessings for granted and groan about duties. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Praise is a choice. A thankful heart is a choice you make. No one is forced into bitterness. You choose the way you live. The one who returned to give thanks chose not to forget what Jesus had done for him. The secret then of a thankful heart is a conscious choice not to forget what God has done for you.

That’s called, “Thanksliving.”

Grace,

Randy