Seeds

 

Seeds

Seeds - Audio/Visual 

Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem. (Isaiah 53:1-3)

Want to see a miracle? Take a seed the size of a freckle, put it under several inches of dirt, give it plenty of water, light and fertilizer and then get ready. A mountain will be moved. It doesn’t matter that the ground weighs a thousand times more than the weight of the seed. The seed will push it back. And every spring, dreamers around the world plant tiny hopes in overturned soil. And every spring, their hopes press against impossible odds and explode into bloom. Never underestimate the power of a seed.

As far as I know, James, the writer of the book after his name, wasn’t a farmer. He was, after all, the half-brother of Jesus so maybe he was a contractor. But regardless of his profession, he knew the power of a seed sown in fertile soil. Here’s what he said: “Those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of goodness.” (James 3:18) And the principle for peace is the same as the principle for crops: never underestimate the power of a seed. Take the story of Heinz, for example.

Europe, 1934. Hitler’s plague of anti-Semitism has infected a continent. Some would escape it. Some would die from it. But eleven-year-old Heinz would learn from it. He would learn the power of sowing seeds of peace. Heinz was a young Jewish boy in Hitler’s Europe, and the Bavarian village of Fürth, where Heinz lived, was being overrun by Hitler’s young thugs. Heinz’s father, a schoolteacher, had lost his job. All recreational activities had ceased. Tension mounted on the streets, and Jewish families clutched to the traditions that held them together – the observance of the Sabbath, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Old ways now took on new significance. And as the storm of persecution blackened and swelled, these ancient observances were a precious cleft in a mighty rock. And as the streets became a battleground, that kind of security meant survival.

Hitler youth roamed the neighborhoods just looking for trouble, and young Heinz learned to keep his eyes open. When he saw a band of troublemakers, he would step to the other side of the street. Sometimes he would escape a fight; sometimes not. One day in 1934, a pivotal confrontation occurred. Heinz found himself face-to-face with a Hitler bully and a beating appeared inevitable. This time, however, he walked away unhurt – not because of what he did but because of what he said. He didn’t fight back; he spoke up, instead. He convinced the troublemakers that a fight wasn’t necessary. His words kept a battle at bay. And Heinz saw firsthand how a word can bring peace. He learned the skill of using words to avoid conflict. And for a young Jewish boy in Hitler-infested Europe, that skill had many opportunities to be honed and perfected.

Fortunately, Heinz’s family escaped from Bavaria and made their way to America. Later in life, Heinz would downplay the impact those adolescent experiences had had on his development. But it makes you wonder because after Heinz grew up his name became synonymous with peace negotiations. His legacy became that of a bridge-builder. Somewhere he had learned the power of the properly placed word of peace. And you have to wonder if his training didn’t initially come on the streets of Fürth. But you may not know him as Heinz. You probably know him by his Anglicized name, Henry. Henry Kissinger. Never underestimate the power of a seed.

How good are you at sowing seeds of peace? You may not be called on to stave off an international conflict, but you will have opportunities to do something more vital: to bring inner peace to troubled hearts. Jesus modeled this. Interestingly, however, we don’t see Jesus settling many disputes or negotiating conflicts. What we do see is Jesus cultivating inward harmony through acts of love: washing the feet of men he knew would betray him; having lunch with a corrupt tax official; honoring the sinful woman whom society had scorned. Jesus built bridges by healing hurts. He prevented conflict by touching the conflicted. He cultivated harmony by sowing seeds of peace in fertile hearts.

Pause for a moment and think about the people who make up your world. Stroll through the gallery of faces that are significant to you. Mentally flip through the scrapbook of snapshots that picture the ones with whom you deal often. Can you see their faces? Your spouse. Your best friend. Your golf buddies. Your kids. Your aunt across the country. Your neighbor across the street. Your co-worker. Freeze-frame those mental images for a moment while I tell you how some of them may be feeling.

I went to my doctor for my annual physical and, at my age, the doctor does stuff that I wasn’t even aware should be done. As a result, he ordered the works on me. One nurse put me on a table and stuck little cold suction cups on my chest. Another nurse wrapped a heavy band around my arm and squeezed a black bulb until my arm tingled. Then they pricked my finger and told me to fill up a cup. Awkward. Then, with all the preliminaries done, they put me in a room and told me to take off my shirt and wait for the doctor. There’s something about being poked, pushed, measured and drained that makes you feel a little bit like a head of lettuce in the produce department at the local grocery store. I sat on a cold metal chair, stared out the window and waited.

Somebody in your world probably feels like I felt in my doctor’s office. The daily push and shove of the world has a way of leaving us worked over and worn out. Someone in your gallery of people is sitting on a cold aluminum chair of insecurity, clutching the backside of a hospital gown for fear of exposing what little pride he or she has left. And that person desperately needs a word of peace. Someone needs you to do for them what my doctor did for me.

My doctor is a small-town Pilipino doctor that practices in a big city. He still remembers names and probably keeps pictures of patients he’s seen over the years on his office bulletin board. And though you know he’s busy, he makes you feel like you’re his only patient. So, after a bit of small talk and few questions about my medical history, he put down my file and said, “Let me take my doctor’s hat off for a minute and talk to you as a friend.” I’ve known my doctor for a quarter of a century.

Our chat lasted maybe five minutes. He asked me about my family. He asked me about my work load. He asked me about my stress. Nothing profound, nothing probing. He went no deeper than I would allow, but I had the feeling that he would have gone to the bottom of the pit with me had I needed him to do so. After our chat, he then went about his job of tapping my knee with his rubber hammer, staring down my throat, looking in my ears and listening to my chest. When he was all done, as I was buttoning up my shirt, he took his doctor’s hat off again and reminded me not to carry the world on my shoulders, and to eat fewer potato chips. “And be sure to love your wife and those kids. Because when it all boils down to it, you’re not much without them.” And he walked out as quickly as he’d come in — a seed sower in a doctor’s smock.

Want to see a miracle? Plant a word of love heart-deep in a person’s life. Nurture it with a smile and a prayer, and watch what happens. An employee gets a compliment. A wife receives a bouquet of flowers. A cake is baked and carried next door. A widow is hugged. A gas-station attendant is honored. Sowing seeds of peace is like sowing beans – you don’t know how or why it works; you just know that it does. Seeds are planted and topsoils of hurt are shoved away. Never underestimate the power of a seed. God didn’t.

When his kingdom was ravaged and his people had forgotten his name, he planted his seed. When the soil of the human heart had grown crusty, he planted his seed. When religion had become a ritual and the temple a trading post, he planted his seed. Want to see a miracle? Watch him as he places the seed of his own self in the fertile womb of a young Jewish girl. Up it grew, “like a tender green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground.” (Isaiah 53:2) The stones of legalism that burdened backs; the stones of oppression that broke bones; the stones of prejudice that fenced out the needy. All of them – every one of them – overturned and shoved aside. By a seed.

But it was that final stone that proved to be the supreme test of the seed. The stone of death — rolled there by humans and sealed by Satan in front of the tomb. And for a moment it appeared that the seed would be stuck in the earth. For a moment, it looked like the rock was too big to be budged. But then, somewhere in the heart of the earth, the seed of God stirred, shoved and then sprouted. The ground trembled, the rock of the tomb tumbled and the Easter Lilly blossomed.

Never underestimate the power of a seed. Never.

Grace,

Randy

Depression

 

Depression

Depression - Audio/Visual 

Ahab reported to Jezebel everything that Elijah had done, including the massacre of the prophets. Jezebel immediately sent a messenger to Elijah with her threat: "The gods will get you for this and I'll get even with you! By this time tomorrow you'll be as dead as any one of those prophets." When Elijah saw how things were, he ran for dear life to Beersheba, far in the south of Judah. He left his young servant there and then went on into the desert another day's journey. He came to a lone broom bush and collapsed in its shade, wanting in the worst way to be done with it all — to just die: "Enough of this, God! Take my life — I'm ready to join my ancestors in the grave!" Exhausted, he fell asleep under the lone broom bush. (1 Kings 19:1-4)

Depression. We may call it "the blues," or maybe just "a slump" but it’s all the same. Regardless of what you call it, depression is the most widespread form of emotional illness. It’s the common cold of emotional disorders. In a study of more than 11,000 individuals suffering from depression, clinicians found depression to be more physically and socially disabling than arthritis, diabetes, lung disease, chronic back problems, hypertension and gastrointestinal illnesses. The only medical problem that was more disabling was advanced coronary heart disease. That’s a problem.

Unfortunately, there’s a stigma attached to depression where some think that if a person is in a close relationship with God they’ll never be depressed. That’s a lie. The truth is that there are going to be days, weeks perhaps, maybe even seasons when you wrestle with depression. But that doesn't mean you’re a bad person, a weak person or even an ungodly person. Plenty of people in the Bible suffered from bouts of depression: Moses, Jeremiah and Job, to name a few. Even contemporary figures like Martin Luther and Charles Spurgeon suffered from depression – Spurgeon to the point that he was absent from the pulpit for 2 to 3 months at a stretch. Christianity isn’t an inoculation against depression.

In the passage, Elijah was God's prophet during a time in the life of the nation of Israel when its rulers were leading the people to worship the false gods of Baal and Asherah. To discipline the Israelites and encourage them to turn away from their idols, God shut off the tap and neither dew nor rain fell on the land for three years which resulted in a severe famine. And at the very height of the drought, Elijah challenged King Ahab and his false prophets to a public contest on the top of Mt. Carmel to demonstrate both the power of God and the weakness of Baal and Asherah. Two bulls were chosen for the contest. Elijah sacrificed one to God; the false prophets sacrificed theirs to their idols. The contest was to see whose god was capable of sending fire to consume the bull that lay on the altar.

The 850 false prophets went first. They tried from early morning until late in the afternoon to get their "god" to respond. They ranted and raved and cut themselves to get its attention, all to no avail. Then it was Elijah's turn and he had barely ended his prayer when God answered by sending fire to consume not only the bull that Elijah had drenched with water but the stone altar, too. The wide-eyed Israelites responded in true belief and worship by falling to the ground and confessing that Yahweh, alone, was God. Elijah then commanded that the 850 prophets of Baal and Asherah be seized and executed according to the law of God recorded in Deuteronomy 7. Having finished off the false prophets, Elijah then prayed that God would end the drought and God did just that after Elijah had told Ahab that he’d better hot-foot it the 17 miles back to Jezreel to avoid the approaching downpour.

When Ahab arrived at his summer palace in Jezreel, he was pretty pumped and as he entered the palace he called for Queen Jezebel to tell her all about what had happened. But the part about the power of the living God, the fire from heaven and the thunder and rain that came after Elijah prayed was drowned out when the king got around to telling his wife that 850 of her prophets had been killed. In retaliation, Jezebel put a contract out on Elijah’s life, effectively raining on Ahab’s parade, not to mention Elijah’s. And Elijah’s response? He ran. A lot. Some 115 miles, all the way to Beersheba where he left his servant. And then he continued another day's journey into the Negev (desert) where he pulled up under a Juniper tree and begged God to take him out.

Have you ever felt that way? Like life has gone so sideways, so upside down that it’s just not worth it anymore? That there’s not a soul out there who cares? The truth is that life is full of ups and downs; you can count on that. In fact, it seems like after every down there’s an up, and after every up there’s always a down. Life is not just one long joy ride that keeps getting better and better. There are mountains and valleys, and Elijah had just climbed the Mt. Everest of his prophetic life. And when we have great times of accomplishment and joy in life, we should learn to anticipate the inevitable lows that will occur, like the one that hit Elijah. But depression is not a “pit.” Think of it more like a “tunnel,” because as soon as we enter depression, we’re already on the way out.

Unfortunately, we make ourselves especially susceptible to depression when we take our eyes off God. Remember when Elijah heard Jezebel's threat? What’d he do? He ran. In fear. He took his eyes off God, took one look at Jezebel and literally ran right into the pits of despair. But why? Hadn’t Elijah just sat ring-side and observed one of the greatest victories in his life? Yes, but when Jezebel promised to end his 24 hours later, Elijah forgot all about God’s victory. He took his eyes off the power of God and focused, instead, on Jezebel and her henchmen. Result? Despair. So, when life's inevitable problems approach, keep your eyes on God. If you don’t, you open the door of your heart and mind to depression which will pull up a chair and make itself at home. Instead, dwell on God's greatness and remember all the ways that he has been faithful to you. Keep a journal, if that helps.

Depression, however, is not just mental; physical stress can cause emotional distress, too. Just prior to the onset of his depression, Elijah had put his body through incredible physical stress: he’d run over 100 miles without stopping, was physically exhausted and, prior to his quintuple marathon, had put in a full day of exhausting ministry on top of Mt. Carmel only to run another 17 miles ahead of the King’s chariot to beat the raindrops. So his depression was almost inevitable because physical stress can negatively affect our emotional health. And sometimes the most practical thing some of us can do when dealing with depression is to stop running ourselves into the ground. There's an old Greek proverb that says, "You will break the bow if you always keep it bent." In other words, if you're living under constant, relentless physical stress you will eventually break under the pressure.

We’re also more susceptible to depression when we’re alone. Remember, Elijah went off by himself and sat under that juniper tree wanting to die, feeling like he was the only one left – that he was all alone fighting for God. When we get depressed and discouraged, the first thing we tend to do is get alone by ourselves. Loneliness, however, is one of the greatest contributors to depression. When we draw into a shell and cut ourselves off from others we naturally begin to feast on self-pity. But God didn't design us to live like hermits.

God built us in such a way that life works best for us when we live in friendship and fellowship and community with others. That's why the church, the body of Christ, is so important, because that’s where we’re drawn together in love and mutual encouragement. We're meant to be a part of each other’s lives.

Elijah’s experience also demonstrates that when it comes to depression, doing affects feeling. Sitting alone under a tree with nothing to do but focusing on his own problems simply made Elijah's despair even worse. So God got him out from under the tree, away from the pity party and put him to work. God told Elijah that he had a job to do, i.e., two (2) kings needed crowning, and he had his prophetic successor, Elisha, to appoint. So when depression attacks, don’t go off somewhere by yourself and dwell on it. Instead, get your body moving because physical activity can be like good medicine for your emotions since our emotions can be rebellious at times; they don’t always take orders. They can easily ignore commands such as "Stop being angry," or "Don't feel sad," or "Be happy." It’s difficult to control our emotions, but we can control our bodies and forcing our bodies to do something that needs doing can have the effect of making us feel better.

Martin Luther advised people with mild bouts of depression to ignore the heaviness. "A good way to exorcize the Devil," Luther maintained, "was to harness the horses and spread manure on the fields." In other words, get to work. Do something productive and you’ll feel productive. Doing affects feeling. God reminded Elijah to focus on the needs of others since there was an entire nation that needed his ministry. And that’s what Philippians 2:4 means when it encourages us to, ".... look not only to our own interests (needs) but also to the interests of others." We must have an underlying agreement with each other, and with ourselves, that the people who enter our lives don't have to have it all together in order to gain our acceptance.

In a very real sense, every church is a hospital: a place where the hurting and injured can come to find healing. It's a place where people can honestly admit their struggles and find rest for themselves. Jesus said, "Come unto me all you who labor and are heavy ladened and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28) So, we should take seriously Paul's injunction when he says to "encourage the fainthearted, help the weak and be patient with all men." (1 Thess. 5:14) David, in speaking about God, said that God would “…lift them out of the pits of despair … out of the mud and mire, and set their feet on the rock.” (Psalm 40:2) We need to remind ourselves of that truth and share it with a hopeless world because who knows? It might just save a trip to the doctor.

Grace,

Randy

Hermeneutics

 

Hermeneutics

Hermeneutics - Audio/Visual 

Then Jesus left Galilee and went north to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Gentile woman who lived there came to him, pleading, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David! For my daughter is possessed by a demon that torments her severely.” But Jesus gave her no reply, not even a word. Then his disciples urged him to send her away. “Tell her to go away,” they said. “She is bothering us with all her begging.” Then Jesus said to the woman, “I was sent only to help God’s lost sheep — the people of Israel.” But she came and worshiped him, pleading again, “Lord, help me!” Jesus responded, “It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” She replied, “That’s true, Lord, but even dogs are allowed to eat the scraps that fall beneath their masters’ table.” “Dear woman,” Jesus said to her, “your faith is great. Your request is granted.” And her daughter was instantly healed. (Matthew 15:21-28)

Hermeneutics – it’s hard enough to spell, much less define – but, simply stated, is a method of interpreting the Scriptures. The best, and the worst interpretations of this particular text, in my opinion, were both provided by a woman. The first – and the worst – is found in a book entitled, Feminist Interpretation of the Bible and reads as follows:

The Canaanite is an aggressive single parent who here defies cultural taboos and acts to free Jesus from his sexism and racism by catching him in a bad mood or with his compassion down, besting him in an argument and herself becoming the vehicle of his liberation and the deliverance of her daughter.

This feminist interpretation makes the Canaanite woman the “savior,” who rescues Jesus from his “ism’s” – take your pick. But the best interpretation of Jesus’ words comes from the Canaanite woman herself. She, more than any other (the Pharisees, the crowds, even the disciples), seems to get what Jesus is saying. The scribes and Pharisees may have been scholars of sorts, but they certainly didn’t understand Jesus. This woman did, however, and she alone is commended for her faith.

We are told that this woman had heard about Jesus. But what had she heard? Luke tells us that there were disciples in Tyre and Sidon, and that vast multitudes had come to hear Jesus and to be healed of their diseases, including unclean spirits. (Luke 6:17-19) So, maybe that’s what the woman had heard. There’s only one problem though: she’s a Canaanite, a descendant from a city that God had told the Israelites long ago to utterly destroy. (Deut. 20:16-18) In that day it was one thing to be a Gentile, but quite another to be a Canaanite – much less a woman. In the eyes of any respectable Jew, this was about as low as one could go, but the woman was desperate because her daughter was demon possessed and Jesus was her only hope. And so when she saw him she persisted in crying out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is possessed by a demon.” (verse 22)

This woman was unfazed by the scowling disapproval of the disciples and their pressing Jesus to be rid of her – which doesn’t paint the disciples in a particularly favorable light. They found this woman’s persistence irritating and distracting so they reverted to their shop-worn solution, “Tell her to go away!” (verse 23) This was the same kind of “advice” that the disciples used to encourage Jesus to send the hungry crowds away in Matthew 14:15. Compassion – obviously – was not their strong suit that day.

I wonder what contributed to the disciples’ indifference, even their disdain toward this woman? Was it due to the fact that she was a Canaanite? We know that the disciples weren’t exactly filled with the milk of human kindness toward Samaritans. (Luke 9:51-55) Or, perhaps, was it the fact that this Canaanite was a woman? No one knows for sure, but they were shocked that Jesus was found speaking with her. Note that not one of the disciples said to the woman, “What do you want?” or to Jesus, “Why are you speaking with her?” The disciples simply pressed Jesus to get rid of her. But Jesus’ silence, followed by his words later, made it plain that his disciples had it all wrong.

Some people suggest that Jesus was wrong here, too, like the feminist’s view of this text. But was he? Well, we probably shouldn’t judge Jesus by the process but rather by the product of the process because look at its outcome: “Then Jesus answered her, ‘Dear woman, your faith is great. Your request is granted.’ And her daughter was instantly healed.” (Matt. 15:28) So what is it that troubles us about Jesus’ words and actions? Are we bothered by his silence? Perhaps, but if that’s true how often in the Psalms does the psalmist ask God how long will he remain silent? Rather, Jesus’ silence did several things. First, he had no obligation to respond; the woman had no basis upon which to appeal to Jesus, except to cling to his mercy. So, to her, Jesus’ silence was actually a source of encouragement which resulted in worship. Remember, the disciples are pressing Jesus to get rid of her. Thus, when Jesus kept silent he was refusing to give into the disciples’ request and, to this woman, Jesus’ silence was golden – since a command from him to leave would have altogether ended her hope for mercy.

Or, what about Jesus’ seemingly harsh words to this Canaanite woman regarding Jews, Gentiles and dogs, no less? Well, Jesus’ conversation with another woman, this time at a well, sheds a little light on that question. In John 4:19-26, Jesus explains to the Samaritan woman (who, by the way, also came to faith) that in order for her to come to faith she needed to understand that her religion would not save her. The short version was, “salvation is from the Jews.” (John 4:22) And just as the scribes and Pharisees had to renounce their distorted version of the Jewish religion, the Samaritans had to reject their “faith” and trust only in Jesus, the Jewish Messiah. Thus, the same held true for the Canaanite woman. It had to be clear to her that Jesus came to Israel first, then to the Gentiles and that his words to her were the truth – the truth necessary for her salvation. They were no harsher than the words of John the Baptist to the Jews when he spoke of the coming judgment of God on (Jewish) sinners.

So, did Jesus humiliate this woman by comparing her to “dogs”? No, because she, like us, needed to be humbled if she was to come to God for mercy. What Jesus says to this woman is what the gospel says to every sinner: “You’re not worthy to be in God’s presence. Confess that you are a sinner, worthy only of his eternal wrath, and call upon him for mercy and grace.” Frankly, the gospel is not meant to flatter, but to save us from our sins and the penalty of eternal wrath. The things Jesus said (and didn’t say) to this woman resulted in one of the greatest declarations of faith in the New Testament. Why, then, do we seek to second guess Jesus in his dealings with this Canaanite woman?

Having said that, let’s focus on the woman’s hermeneutics – her method of interpreting Jesus’ words and actions – which led to her response of faith. Unlike the feminists of our day, this woman was not offended by Jesus. She was not seeking to correct any flaws in Jesus’ thinking. She saw herself for what she was – a woman in desperate need of help because she could not rid her daughter of the demon that tormented her. She saw Jesus for what he was – a gracious and compassionate Savior who was able (and hopefully willing) to extend mercy to her and to her daughter. I believe she, and she alone, rightly interpreted Jesus’ silence and the words that followed. He said he was sent to the lost sheep of Israel: that was his mission. She wasn’t seeking to dissuade him from fulfilling that calling; she simply persisted, pleading with Jesus to have mercy while on his way to fulfilling that very same mission.

And what seemed to be our Lord’s most inflammatory words (“It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs” (Matt. 15:26)) did not put her off either, as Jesus’ choice of words for “dogs” is significant. He didn’t use the term used for dogs that run wild in the streets (See, Matt. 7:6; Luke 16:21), or the term that was used negatively of men. (See, Phil. 3:2; Rev. 22:15) Instead, Jesus used a term which might be better translated, “lap dog,” because it was the word used for a household pet. And the Canaanite woman was listening carefully to Jesus, even to his choice of words. She’s thinking, “Did he just refer to me as a ‘lap dog,’ like a ‘pet’? Great!” And she seized on that word and made it the very basis for her appeal. It was as though she’d said, “Did you say it would be wrong to take bread away from the children and feed it to the dogs? But you said these dogs were pets. They don’t run wild in the street; they sit at their master’s feet. And if their master is at the dinner table, they’re probably under the table near his feet and, you know, uhhhh….. crumbs might fall from the table and the pet dog will eat them. And hey, who knows? Maybe the master might even throw the dog a scrap every once in awhile. So, if I’m a ‘lap dog,’ or your pet, then simply give me a scrap of bread; that’s all I’m asking.”

Far from being offended by Jesus, she was inspired by him to ask for what she desired. And how she must have delighted in Jesus’ response to her request. Jesus commended her faith in a way that no Jew had ever been commended, much less a Canaanite Gentile woman. Only the Gentile centurion, a male Roman citizen, was commended in a similar way. (Matt. 8:10-12) And she, like the centurion, trusted Jesus to heal her loved one from “long distance.” Taking Jesus at his word, she returned home to find that her daughter had been delivered from her tormentor.

So, was this Canaanite woman that “aggressive single mom who defied cultural taboos to free Jesus from his sexism and racism by catching him in a bad mood”? You be the judge. And then did she “best him in an argument and herself become the vehicle of Jesus’ liberation and the deliverance of her daughter”? I guess it depends upon your hermeneutics, but I think the better interpretation is that she had a good understanding of her condition and that, only by God’s mercy, could she be heard, and only by his grace could her daughter be healed.

It may be a matter of interpretation, of course, but given Jesus’ concluding statements to this woman I think she got an “A” in hermeneutics. Class dismissed.

Grace,

Randy

Sheeple

 

^Sheeple

^{Sheeple - Audio/Visual} 

“If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors saying, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!” (Luke 15:4-7)

Sheeple. The word originated in 1950 in an Emory University Quarterly entitled, We, The Sheeple. Wikipedia says “…it’s a term of disparagement in which people are likened to sheep.” So what’s wrong with sheep? Well, they’re not very bright for starters. Rocks have a higher IQ than sheep. Even PETA won’t argue about a sheep’s intelligence because there’s really nothing to argue about. There's dumb. There's dumber. And then there’s sheep.

Next, sheep spend hour after hour eating clumps of grass. Sounds bucolic, but their constant munching leads them from morsel to morsel without ever looking up. Focused only on the next bite to eat, they seldom notice that the rest of the herd has exited left when they’d spotted a snack on the right. Now they're really dazed and confused, thoroughly lost, but they’re still eating while bleating. Unfortunately, their dining habits lead to intestinal issues because sheep can't digest their food until they lie down. The problem is that sheep don't have enough common sense to lie down even if their stomachs are ready to explode. You have to make them lie down for their own good. (Psalm 23:2)

And then there’s a sheep’s inherent "follower" nature. Sheep life, you see, is one long game of follow-the-leader. And if the lead sheep heads over a cliff, the whole herd follows – assuming they're paying attention. Here’s proof from an article taken from a July 9, 2005, edition of USA Today

ISTANBUL, Turkey (July 8) - First one sheep jumped to its death. Then stunned Turkish shepherds, who had left the herd to graze while they had breakfast, watched as nearly 1,500 others followed, each leaping off the same cliff. In the end, 450 dead animals lay on top of one another in a billowy white pile. Those who jumped later were saved as the pile got higher and the fall more cushioned. The estimated loss to families in the town of Gevas, located in the Van province in eastern Turkey, topped $100,000, a significant amount of money in a country where average GDP per head is around $2,700.

Sheep are also helpless against predators. If a wolf gets in the sheep pen, sheep don't fight back; they don't even try to get away. Instead, they form a holy huddle and sing Kumbya, hoping the wolf doesn’t know the words. And if a sheep falls into moving water? It’s Adios and Via con Dios. Their coats, already heavy to begin with, absorb water rapidly and sheep can't swim. And with all of this as a backdrop, Jesus tells a parable – a story about sheep, a shepherd and a rescue.

He says imagine a man with a flock of a hundred sheep and one of the sheep in his portfolio wanders off. What do you do? Well, a good shepherd would get someone to watch the ninety-nine sheep and go find the lost one, right? But if you had that kind of money, wouldn’t you pay somebody else to find the sheep on the lamb? But the shepherd in the parable is a very loving, very concerned, very hardworking, very invested, very involved shepherd. This shepherd takes it upon himself to walk for miles, combing the hills looking everywhere and hoping to find that one lost sheep and then bringing it home. Jesus says that’s how God works. And if God’s the shepherd in the story that means that we’re the sheep, and that’s not meant as a compliment. Sheep stink; sheep get dirty; sheep aren’t very smart.

Furthermore, sheep aren’t even scary; we count them in our dreams, mind you. For instance, let’s say you woke up tomorrow, looked at your phone and got a news alert that said a truck had overturned in your neighborhood and hundreds of sheep were on the loose. You might think, “That’s awesome, I’m going to go out and pet one.” Right? But what if that same report had said hundreds of lions had escaped? You’d probably stay indoors until they found every last one. Yes, we’re the sheep. We tend to wander. We tend to stray. We tend to get into trouble. And you know what sheep do? Nothing. Sheep can’t even find their own way home, and if they’re far away from the flock and the shepherd they’re in serious trouble. And Jesus says we’re like sheep. Even the prophet, Isaiah, said, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way.” (Isaiah 53:6) Sheeple.

The picture here is that we just kind of wander off toward some sort of sin or temptation. We get silly, lazy or even foolish and simply amble away. And that’s when we’re in trouble. We can’t find our way home. We don’t know where our shepherd is. We’re in danger. We’re bloodied. We’re battered. We’re terrified. We’re alone. But our God comes looking for us. Why? Because we’re lost. God’s not lost. We’ve strayed from God since God didn’t do the leaving. We’re responsible when we act irresponsible, and he’s a savior because he’s the “good shepherd.” (John 10:11)

Back in the day, being a shepherd wasn’t some kind of plum job for which you applied and interviewed. It was a job you kind of fell into because shepherds roam, and rather than interacting with people they talk with sheep. They hardly bathe, have limited social skills and sleep wherever the sheep end up eating. In that culture, the shepherd was perceived not so much as a bad person, but as the person who did a job you were grateful you didn’t have to do yourself. And Jesus says, “I’m the good shepherd.” In other words, God became a man and took a lowly job. He wasn’t rich, didn’t live in a mansion or have an easy life. Instead, Jesus humbled himself to identify with a job that was not highly esteemed in the culture of his day so that he could come looking for lost sheep. We don’t find Jesus. He finds us – sometimes after days of walking and hiking and looking and working. And as soon as he finds the lost sheep, he picks it up, puts it on his back and hikes the miles required to get back to the flock.

Can you see your salvation in that picture? The picture of Jesus carrying the cross on his back to bring us back to God because some of us have strayed pretty far; some of us have strayed for years. We’ve walked away from God and his people. We’ve turned our backs on the shepherd and we’re no longer in community with the rest of the sheep. But here’s the good news: the shepherd is right there, ready to pick us up.

We don’t have to walk ourselves back, or work ourselves back, or will ourselves back either. We just need to turn around. And what’s God’s emotional state when we turn around? Well, some of us think that when we repent God has this furrowed brow and pointed finger, wagging his head and just shaming us. But that’s not the God of the Bible. Yes, the God of the Bible is grieved when we sin. Yes, the God of the Bible is grieved when we stray. But the God of the Bible is also filled with joy when we repent. When we repent, God rejoices. God is happy to love. God is happy to save. God is happy to pursue. God is happy to forgive.

That’s exactly what it says in the text. “There is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away.” (Luke 15: 7) In other words, it’s like Jesus looks at the religious people and says, “You guys don’t make God happy at all because you never repent.” God isn’t made happy because of our religiosity; he’s made happy by our repentance since religiosity and repentance seldom mix. That’s because religiosity, like a vaccine, inoculates us from having to confront our sin. The religious want law and not grace because grace, on our terms, leads to the frightening prospect that God’s grace may be insufficient to forgive the sins we would rather forget. Thus, unsure of who they could be if they repented of their sin and moved toward holiness by God’s grace, the religious wallow in their old selves in order to avoid the new.

All of this is what the Bible calls “good news,” i.e., the gospel. Religion, on the other hand, has no good news to offer. Religion comes up to a lost sheep and says, “You’re dirty. You’re stinky. You’re lost. You’re a little beat up, and bleeding.” And the sheep says, “Yeah, I know. What do I do?” “Well, here’s what you need to do. You need to clean yourself up. You need to get your act together. You need to reincarnate, or go to Mecca. You need to do better. You need to try harder. You need to find your way back to God, and you’ve got to walk all the way there. God bless, and good luck.”

That’s not good news. That doesn’t help a sheep at all. “I don’t know where the shepherd is.” “I can’t clean myself.” “It’s dangerous.” “I’m not very tough.” “I’m lost, I’m bleeding and I can’t find the flock.” Religion comes along and says, “You blew it. Good luck fixing it.” Jesus comes along and says, “I’m here. I’ll pick you up. I’ll carry you home.” Now, that’s not only good news, that’s great news!

Sheeple? Maybe. But Wikipedia’s got it all wrong. It’s not “… a term of disparagement in which people are likened to sheep.” It’s an honest assessment by a loving God who loves the lost and found.

Grace,

Randy