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{Many thanks to our sweet Ella, who rounded up everyone's clothes. She relished the opportunity to organize and dress everyone! :)}
Is anyone else sick of the rationalization of Scripture and the comfy Christian life? I sure am.
Let's put ourselves in the shoes of these eager followers of Jesus in the first century. What if I were the potential disciple being told to drop my nets? What if you were the man whom Jesus told to not even say good-bye to his family? What if we were told to hate our families and give up everything we had to follow Jesus?
This is where we come face to face with a dangerous reality. We do have to give up everything we have to follow Jesus. We do have to love him in a way that makes our closest relationships in this world look like hate. And it is entirely possible that he will tell us to sell everything we have and give it to the poor.
But we don't want to believe it. We are afraid of what it might mean for our lives. So we rationalize these passages away. "Jesus wouldn't really tell us not to bury our father or say good-bye to our family. Jesus didn't literally mean to sell all we have and give it to the poor. What Jesus really meant was..."
And this is where we need to pause. Because we are starting to redefine Christianity. We are giving in to the dangerous temptation to take the Jesus of the Bible and twist him into a version of Jesus we are more comfortable with.
A nice, middle-class, American Jesus. A Jesus who doesn't mind materialism and who would never call us to give away everything we have. A Jesus who would not expect us to forsake our closest relationships so that he receives all our affection. A Jesus who is fine with nominal devotion that does not infringe upon our comforts, because, after all, he loves us just the way we are. A Jesus who wants us to be balanced, who wants us to avoid dangerous extremes, and who, for that matter, wants us to avoid danger altogether. A Jesus who brings us comfort and prosperity as we live out our Christian spin on the American dream.
But do you and I realize what we are doing at this point? We are molding Jesus into our image. He is beginning to look a lot like us, because, after all, that is whom we are most comfortable with. And the danger now is that when we gather in our church buildings to sing and lift up our hands in worship, we may not actually be worshiping the Jesus of the Bible. Instead we may be worshiping ourselves.
One afternoon as they worked on a gate, he began thinking out loud.
"I figure I'm not good enough for Heaven," he said.
She smiled, her hands never stopping as she worked on the rocks, and she told him a true story:
"Well, you know, Mr. Sawyer, when Mr. [Dwight L.] Moody was in Scotland holding meetings, a little boy wanted to get into the building. He was a little urchin. Now when I say a little urchin, I mean his face was dirty, his clothes were ragged. And every door he went to was closed because the place was jammed. He was turned away. Maybe if he'd come in top hat and tails they would have been a little more respectful to him.
"But anyway, the little guy got turned away and turned away until finally he would up at the back door with tears running down his little face. And just about that time a carriage pulled up. People went to help the gentlemen out of the carriage and a big, tall man stepped down. And he noticed this little guy with the dirty face and tears running down and he put his hand on his shoulder and said, 'Sonny, what's wrong?'
"The boy said, 'I want to hear Mr. Moody and it's full up and nobody will let me in.'
"And the big man took his hand and said, 'Come with me."
"When they got to the door it was thrown wide and people bowed him in. The big man found the little boy a seat on the front row. Then he mounted the platform. It was Mr. Moody.
"When we get to Heaven, Mr. Sawyer," she concluded, her eyes filled with light like a sunny day, "that's the only way any of us are going to get in- if Jesus takes us by the hand. None of us are good enough. We're too dirty."
"Mommy," GiGi said breathlessly, "I feel like a new person."(I read this excerpt aloud to Mark, and we both got a good chuckle out of this. Isn't that the truth!? :))
The next day, this "new person" scampered down Assembly Drive to the Montreat gate and uprooted a dozen water lilies that had just been planted in time for the arrival of the season's first tourists and conferees. Ruth escorted her to the town manager's office with the evidence wilting in her tight little fist, her face pale as she worried aloud that she was going to be thrown into jail (her mother saying nothing to dispel the fear). She confessed and apologized.
That night as Ruth tucked her into bed she asked plaintively, "Mommy, have I been good enough today to go to Heaven?"
"Now how much, " Ruth wrote that night, "should I impress on her Salvation by Grace when really for a child of her disposition one could be tempted to think salvation by works would be more effective on her behavior?"
As a wife, Ruth was no longer the young bride whose feelings were easily hurt. She had learned to laugh at almost everything, as illustrated by this example of how she dealt with Billy's chronic preoccupation:This made me smile, not just because of the Ruth-and-Billy moment, but because I can well imagine why this would have tickled my grandma so much. I am sure my grandpa had that very same problem of being attentive, and I wonder if grandma marked it to read aloud to grandpa one evening, or if she just kept the humor all to herself.
One day the Grahams were expecting guests for dinner and Ruth asked Billy, "What would you like to have on the menu?"
"Uh-huh," came the reply.
Deciding to have some fun, Ruth began rattling off a rather unusual bill of fare.
"I thought we'd start off with tadpole soup," she began.
"Uh-huh," he replied.
"And there is some lovely poison ivy growing in the next cove which would make a delightful salad."
"Uh-huh."
"For the main dish, I could try roasting some of those wharf rats we've been seeing around the smokehouse lately, and serve them with boiled crabgrass and baked birdseed."
"Uh-huh."
"And for dessert we could have a mud souffle and..." her voice trailed off as his eyes finally focused.
"What were you saying about wharf rats?" he asked.
I'm a hands-on mom. I love to hold my children or to sit next to them and read aloud. Talking to them about big ideas or little mysteries is a happy thing. I'm fond of books and truly enjoy sharing them with the loves of my life. We are all blessed because I genuinely love education. When I face homeschooling, it's not with a sense of dread or duty. I truly delight in it (most days). That's such a blessing and I know it! I'm very grateful for the gift of that joy.
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