Month: December 2014

“And John’s disciples came and took up the body (of John the Baptist) and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus. When Jesus heard it, He withdrew from there privately in a boat to a solitary place. But when the crowds heard of it, they followed Him [by land] on foot from the towns.  When He went ashore and saw a great throng of people, He had compassion (pity and deep sympathy) for them and cured their sick.” (Matthew 14:12-14, AMP)

 

Jesus and his disciples had climbed into the boat to head to a “solitary place,” a place purposefully away from people. But when they got to this place I called “No-man’s land” in my last blog post, there was anything but solitude because a huge crowd of over five thousand was waiting for him, clamoring for his attention.

My love of and need for solitude in my quiet little life makes me keenly interested in how Jesus handled the noise and commotion and demands on his time and person. Jesus was the perfect human being, having all the emotions and physical limitations we humans have, yet with the significant difference of no sin nature. Instead of a fallen nature, he had the nature of God. He was fully human yet fully God. The compassion he felt for the milling, noisy (probably smelly) crowd was straight from his God-ness.

We have no excuse for not having that compassion as well if we have been indwelt by God’s spirit, given to us when we put our faith in Christ Jesus for our salvation. So I look at these incidents in scripture and try to read between the lines. Actually, Jesus’ response to people is pretty much “out there”; he cared more for them than for himself. So hard to do for those of us with so much “self” to deal with. But doable nonetheless.

Jesus’ compassionate response was not based on emotion. So often mine is. Emotions are so wishy-washy. They can change in a moment from hot to cold. Not a good idea to operate that way. Jesus’ response to the clamoring crowd came out of his God-love for people. Solid. Stable.

“When Jesus went ashore, He saw a large crowd, and He felt compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and He began to teach them many things.” (Mark 6:34, NASB)

“… and welcoming them, He began speaking to them about the kingdom of God and curing those who had need of healing.” (Luke 9:11b, NASB)

In the full light of that kind of love I am convicted of my lack of compassion. Not lack of emotion. I have plenty of that. Compassion. The kind of compassion Jesus had. God-love. I want that kind of care for others. I should have it since Christ lives in me.

God, help me be sensitive to Your spirit. Stop being “me” so much (critical, judgmental, impatient) and be more of “You” (the opposite of the aforementioned).

As I wipe my tears of contrition and continue reading, I am struck by another insight, right there for all to see, yet so often missed. I almost suck air. Is that my reflection I see? (Continued in next post.)

Your heart is heavy, sorrow weighing it down. Your cousin, who had been imprisoned unjustly, executed. On a whim! So outrageously evil, but no one dare cry out against it.

You could have done something, tried to intervene to get him released. But at the same time you knew in your heart you mustn’t do it. Not from fear though. You had to hold yourself back from acting on his behalf. One of the hardest decisions you’ve had to make. Family and friends look at you strangely, accusingly, wondering why the silence on your part, especially since you’ve been outspoken on so many other issues.

Now it is too late for intervention. He’s dead. But you know at the same time it had to be this way. Never mind the ‘why’ of it.

The need to get away alone presses in. You are exhausted from the daily demands and now this traumatic news. You want some time to grieve; a time to cry out to God and dump on him all the emotions swirling inside. A little time to let God comfort and heal your heart is all you need now. A little time.

 

“And his (John the Baptist’s) head was brought in on a platter and given to the little maid, and she brought it to her mother.

12 And John’s disciples came and took up the body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.

13 When Jesus heard it, He withdrew from there privately in a boat to a solitary place.”

(Matthew 14:11-13a)

 

As I read this passage this morning I was struck by a few thoughts that stopped me in my tracks. One of the first was of Jesus hearing of John the Baptist’s beheading. Oh how that must of pained his heart. Though he and John lived far apart and didn’t see each other on a daily basis, they were family and spent those special feast days together with other cousins, aunts and uncles.  All their lives as long as they could remember, at least once a year, if not more often, they had these family reunions in Jerusalem.

I’m guessing Jesus and John were kindred spirits. They both had a deep sensitivity to God’s spirit who was strongly at work in them. I’m also guessing they understood each other without having to say a lot. It was something they just weren’t able to explain or share with their other cousins and family members. The others didn’t have that same depth of connection with God. This was not a bad reflection on them; it is just the way God worked.

Jesus and John also had a unique relationship due to their callings from God. The Father revealed it to them both. They each knew who they were before God and each knew his calling. Then it was shown them who the other was: John, come in the spirit and power of Elijah as the forerunner of the Messiah, announcing his arrival, calling the people to repentance, preparing them to receive their Savior; Jesus that very Messiah, the Lamb of God, the perfect sacrifice to take away the sin of the world.

When John was arrested and thrown into prison Jesus hadn’t intervened because he knew in his spirit he had to keep hands off. He always and only acted on his Father’s voice, and his Father had been silent.

Now John was gone.

The pain in Jesus’ heart called for privacy. Alone time. Alone time, that is, with his Father.

Haven’t we all had those times when we need to unload our burdened heart and the only one who can take the strain of our pain is God, our heavenly Father. Perhaps those of us who tend to be introverts sense this more keenly, but surely it comes to us all at one time or another. There is something in being in the presence of God, blurting out all our hurts and confusion and unnamed pains to him, letting the bag of burdens we carry roll out of our hands and off our backs into his capable hands. It is real. It is deep. It is what we need in those times of the unbearableness of life.

This is what Jesus was sailing off for, I think. He climbed into a boat and pointed to No-man’s land. There is where he’d meet with his Father. There, alone with his Father would be comfort and healing and restoration.

But he didn’t get that in No-man’s land. Instead of getting, he had to give. Again.

Christmas is more a cultural phenomenon than a Christian holy day. It is not a God-ordained feast day, such as Passover or the Feast of Tabernacles, which he commanded Israel to keep. In fact, we do not even know the exact day of Jesus’ birth. It has been a matter of debate and speculation for centuries. The closest indication of a time period that I know of from scripture is found in Luke 2: 1, 2. Pinpoint that decree of Caesar Augustus and you have a general timeframe, but still without a definitive date.

I found an interesting “History of Christmas” on the History channel (google: Bet You Didn’t Know: Christmas).  It only took a few minutes to watch/read through. Some of these historical facts I had heard before, but a few were new to me. What it pointed out was the cultural rather than Christian or biblical historical roots of my favorite holiday.

What we celebrate as Christmas was unknown to Christians until the third century. Historians think it began as a “Christian icing” overlaying the pagan feast of Saturnalia, to divert people from the drunken feasting done during the shortest days of the year, as they anticipated the return of the sun and longer days. In fact, such year-end celebrating, likened to that of the Mardi Gras we know today, has been going on for centuries under various names. Now folk party under the name Christmas, though there is in it neither Christ nor Mass, the special church service which gives us the name we know and love.

Santa Claus’ family roots can be traced to St. Nicholas of Myra, who was known for his kindness in giving gifts, especially to those in need. He is known in the Netherlands as Sinterklaas and his day is celebrated separately from Christmas. Our common image of Santa Claus was made popular by a Coca Cola ad in the 1930s.

Evergreen trees came into the picture in England in the 1800s, imported from the German tradition, and the Christmas holiday itself finally made its way acceptably to the American States in the mid-1800s, along with the tradition of sending Christmas cards.

Gift giving has evolved as well, becoming more and more commercialized, and less about the gifts the wise men gave Jesus’s parents, since the days of the Industrial Revolution.

What I have enjoyed since childhood is a 150+ year old American twist on the international Christmas celebration. Americans began to emphasize a family-oriented holiday celebration. Thank you Americans!

I have fond memories of Christmas. My parents taught us it was Jesus’ birthday and those days were filled with church Christmas programs, extended family get-togethers, food and gift exchanges. Since I grew up in central Michigan, I always associate Christmas with snow and outdoors fun in the cold.

That little historical jaunt into the history of Christmas made me relax a bit about the whole Christmas deal. My husband and I have tried to use Christmas as an opportunity to emphasize the wonder and meaning of the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ; a time for reflection on and worship of him. We’ve made it a point to give Jesus a birthday present along with the other gift giving we do.

The truth of the matter is, however individuals or families choose to celebrate, or not to celebrate, Christmas is really a matter of little consequence. God didn’t command us to observe Christmas. It is a human construct. Therefore, we have great leeway in how we observe it. Spiritually, it is neither “here nor there,” so to speak.

What is of utmost importance, however, is how we live out the other 364 days of the year. God does have a lot to say about that in his Word. If we are not living in obedience to him and his Word every day, we deceive ourselves. Christ can never be the center of our Christmas if he is not the center of our lives the rest of the year.

Have a wonderful Christmas holiday, however you observe it, honoring him whose birth we celebrate—on Christmas and every day of the year.

Every morning I get my coffee, pull the chain on the antique floor lamp next to my recliner in the front room, and in its light turn to the next psalm in my reading. I make up my own schedule, move at my own pace. I’ve camped out in recent days in one psalm.

For several days the psalms had been starting out, “Praise the LORD,” “Shout joyfully to the LORD,””O sing a new song to the LORD.” It’s easy to focus on the LORD when the first words of the psalm point to him in such positive ways. This is what I need; the necessary prod. I have been convicted of my tendency to sit in the dark of my own thoughts, swirling streams of negativity. Yes! I, the optimist by nature, must wage the war of the mind, battle the downward pull of my fallen nature.

So I look hard at the words of the psalm and enter into them as I read. “Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name” (Psalm 103:1, NASB).

I’ve read this psalm numerous times over the years. It is easy to read words but not enter into what they are saying. I enter in. I bless the LORD (YHWH). Words become life. My spirit is lifted up, beyond myself. Beyond my smallness and fallen-ness.

My focus is not myself and my troubles, those swirling, negative thoughts; even the legitimate burdens which I must carry. The eyes of my heart are focused on the One I am blessing (praising): the LORD. Every particle of my being begins to enter into praising God.

I love those verses, so familiar to us: “I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1, 2, NASB). The psalmist was looking at the mountains on which Jerusalem sat, the location of the Temple of God, his dwelling place. He was going to worship God.

How often I have looked “up,” to mountains or clouds of the sky, and been instantly reminded of God, who made them. Mountains and towering clouds. Large in my vision; specks to the Creator God! He is above all, over all, sovereign!

Perspective.

Our focus in life, our focus in prayer, must be not our concerns and burdens and swirling negative thoughts and emotions. Our focus must be on the One who is above it all, ruling over all: the LORD God.

“Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name.”