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Many houses, one mansion

Saturday, April 5, 2014

John 7:40-47
Hearing Jesus, some said, "This is the Prophet." Others said, "This is the Christ." But others wanted to arrest him. Some said, "Never before has anyone spoken like this man." And others said, "Have you also been deceived?"

And a division occurred in the crowd because of him ... each went to his own house. Now at last is time for silence, introspection and prayer, for understanding. There was no NPR or Fox News to agree with them. They had the gift of their own house, their own prayer shawl, their own relationship with God. Surely God would clear this up.

Or perhaps not. Over and over they cried out to God, "You have made me in your image. Why will you not converse with me?" Nothing had been heard from God in hundreds of years. All the prophets were dead and buried. The ceiling marked their sky.

Into this wasteland walks Jesus with words of love and hope. Not just words. Feeding and healing the least worthy, returning them to the community that rejected them because of their "failures of health." Challenging the eugenics and triumphalism of everyone, Jew and Roman, Democrat and Republican. Jesus didn't notice the outside of the cup, which made it easy for him to see inside his brothers and sisters.

And he said what he saw. Even on the Sabbath. He tweaked the jot and tittle matter-of-factly and simply said, "The sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath." What can you say? Jesus loved his brothers and sisters and never stopped putting them first.

Finally he would be stopped by murder. He knew the black hearts of his killers. And here is the moment of revolution: Jesus knew he would be killed and said, Yes. Come and kill me. When I know his permission, and I behold the man, and I say, no. I will not. That is when the world changes. At least the two of us have left violence behind.

Not long, and it's my turn. I know I'm about to be robbed or cheated or killed or abused. I provide "advantage" for someone, and they will take it from me. And because Jesus said yes, I say, Yes. Come and kill me.

Jesus died. Others die. The world changes, oh so slowly. The wind blows where it will. Violence breathes on. Our fear reigns. Still, we are always given another chance to say.

Yes.

You my God had no stately form, no majesty that we should be drawn to you. You were despised, no account, because our sin bruised and wounded you. Our sin so ugly taken on forces us to turn our eyes away. For a moment, Lord, let me turn them back again. Our God reigns. How lovely on the mountains are your feet, you bring good news. My eyes are graced by what they see, all the way inside you, and I am changed. Oh, God.



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