Divine Love for the Lost

In my last post, "That Man Welcomes Sinners", I focused on how the "sinners" of Jesus' day gathered to hear Him, much to the displeasure of the self-righteous Pharisees.

Tax collectors and sinners were drawn to Jesus because, as the Pharisees observed, Jesus welcomed sinners and ate with them. (Luke 15:1-2)

Those opening verses of Luke 15 set the stage for the three parables that follow, the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the Lost Sons (more commonly referred to as Parable of the Prodigal Son).

That third parable is perhaps the most well known of Jesus' stories, as well as one of the most elaborate.

It tells the story of a father with two sons, each of whom demonstrates disrespect for the father.

The younger son demands to be given his portion of the inheritance early, since dad isn't dying soon enough for his liking.

The older son describes his relationship to his old man as a form of underappreciated slavery rather than genuine sonship.

This parable, however, is also the story of a father's love for his two undeserving children.

While this love is evident throughout the story, perhaps the most dramatic display of that love comes when the younger son returns home.

Having wasted his inheritance in what is described as "wild living," the son comes to his senses and realizes how good he had it back home.

In fact, he realizes that his father's hired men have it better than he currently did, since his only employment was slopping the hogs on someone's farm, an unimaginable task for a good Jewish boy.

So, after rehearsing what he will say to his father, the young man heads home.

Meanwhile, his father, who has no idea whether his son is dead or alive, waits daily for his son's return.

Then there comes the fateful day when he sees his son in the distance.

Immediately he runs to him, embraces him, and kisses him, before the son can utter one word of his rehearsed lines.

This is the point that I missed for years. The father welcomes his son before he even knows why his son is there.

Maybe the son was coming back for more money.

Maybe the son was going to say, "Dad, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to tell you that leaving here was the best thing I ever did and I'm never coming back again."

The point is, the father doesn't know what the son will say, and he doesn't care!

All the father knows is that he loves his son. That's all that matters to him. He loves his son, without question and without condition.

Whatever has brought his son back to him, for however brief a time it might be, the father has only one goal, to let his son know that he loves him.

What happens after that is beyond the father's control. Either his love for his son will win the day or it won't.

Come what may, he won't force his son to stay.

That's the purity of the father's love. It doesn't demand explanations or apologies. It simply offers itself freely to be either received or rejected.

That's God the Father's love for each of us.

He wants His love to win our hearts, but allows us to refuse it, because divine love doesn't coerce.

Rather, it is constant. This love doesn't change. This love doesn't end.

Be assured that, however far away from the Father your wanderings may take you, the Father's love is always there for you.

He is always waiting for you.

He will always welcome you.

Without questions. Without conditions.

With only love.

"That Man Welcomes Sinners"

For the last number of years I have marveled at the fact that "sinners" flocked to Jesus.

These people ranged from the folks who didn't measure up to the pharisaical standards of ceremonial purity to those who were in clear violation of God's expectations.

I pondered the question, "Why did the sinners of Jesus' day come to Him when most sinners of our day wouldn't think of crossing the threshold of one of our churches?"

The answer actually was staring me in the face in the Pharisees' accusation, "This man welcomes sinners and eat with them" (Luke 15:2).

Jesus welcomed sinners into His space, His presence, and shared fellowship with them by eating with them.

That's why sinners flocked to Him. His love for them drew them in.

And He didn't lead with the law with these folks on the fringes. Condemning them would only drive them further from Him.

Jesus' love drew the sinners to Him, and the closer they got, the more Jesus expected of them.

As He had taught, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded" (Luke 12:48b).

That's why Jesus was harder on the Pharisees. They had been given much and were misusing what they had been given. The same couldn't be said of the sinners.

On Friday afternoons I spend time with folks that would be considered sinners. They are prostitutes and addicts, some recovering, some still active in "the life."

I attend their support group meeting designed for those who are looking to get out of or stay out of "the life."

We have lunch and talk about the problems we face. Even though we have different experiences, we all have problems. We are all sinners looking for grace and guidance.

These folks have welcomed me because I welcome them and eat with them.

They are grateful that I bring our church's Comfort Dog, Gabriel, to spend time with them, but my presence is valued by them as well.

What I have learned is that if we want the church to be a safe haven for sinners, we need to be like Jesus.

We need to welcome sinners and eat with them, the way Jesus has welcomed us.

If Jesus Came Over for Dinner

In Luke 11, Jesus accepts a dinner invitation from a Pharisee.

The Pharisee disapprovingly takes note that Jesus doesn't give His hands a ceremonial washing.

Jesus, in turn, begins to lay into the Pharisees for their hypocrisy. "Woe to you Pharisees..."

When the experts in the law complain that Jesus is insulting them also, Jesus turns His sights in their direction. "Woe to you experts in the law..."

I so want to cheer Jesus on. "You tell 'em, Jesus!" I'm even envious of His boldness. Who has the courage to accept a dinner invitation and then chastise the host? Only Jesus!

But then I realize that if Jesus came to my home for dinner, it would likely look the same for me as it did for that Pharisee.

If Jesus came over for dinner, I would ask one of my members to be the pit master for a genuine Texas barbecue.

I would then invite the members of the church and some of my fellow pastors to dine with the divine guest of honor.

We would all clear our calendars, put on our Sunday best, and show up early, eager to meet Jesus, share a meal with Him, and listen to His wisdom.

But during the course of the dinner, as Jesus listens to our conversations and looks into our hearts, He might say something like this.

Woe to you Lutherans!

• You love your traditions and ceremonies
• You pride yourself on your orthodoxy
• You exult in your achievements
• You venerate your heritage
• You idolize your church buildings
• You bemoan your shrinking numbers
• You criticize the culture

However,

• You fail to love one another
• You fail to love your neighbor as yourself
• You fail to seek first the reign of God
• You fail to grow in the grace of giving
• You fail to make disciples
• You fail to fear, love, and trust in God above all things

We at the dinner might be insulted by Jesus. We might be offended by Jesus. But we couldn't say we were misjudged by Him.

That's why I'm grateful that Jesus invites me to His place for a meal, where I receive forgiveness for my failures, salvation from my sins, and the grace that I need to move forward in a more God-pleasing way.

Mother Knows Best

Jesus' first miracle was performed at a wedding in Cana when water became wine (John 2).

How this transformation occurred is not explained.

Somehow, between the filling of the six 30 gallon water jugs and the tasting by the master of ceremonies, the water became wine.

No command of Jesus is recorded.

No physical interaction between Jesus and the water is described.

It all happened simply because Jesus willed it to happen.

No wonder John tells us that, when they witnessed the glorious power of their rabbi, Jesus' disciples "put their faith in Him" (John 2:11).

But the disciples are not the only ones who put their faith in Jesus that day, nor were they the first.

Jesus' mother, Mary, beat them to it.

Mary is made aware of a problem at the wedding. The hosts had run out of wine.

What an embarrassment for the wedding couple and their families!

Mary, however, figures out a solution. She will tell Jesus about it.

Jesus' response to His mother is unexpected, and even sounds outright disrespectful.

"What is to me and to you, woman?" is the literal translation. A more natural rendering would read, "Dear woman, what does your concern have to do with me?"

Jesus is not being disrespectful, but He is distancing Himself from Mary and her concerns.

In explanation He adds, "My hour has not yet come."

What Mary does next is truly surprising. Rather than walking away disappointed in her son, she tells the nearby servants, "Whatever He says to you, do."

Jesus hadn't said He would do anything about this problem. He made no promises. He even makes it sound like He's not going to take any action at all.

But Mary knows her son. She knows He is a man of compassion and of power.

She puts her faith in Him and declares it with her words to the servants. "Whatever He says to you, do."

She trusts Jesus to act in whatever matter and at whatever time He chooses.

She didn't beg from Him. She didn't argue with Him. She didn't dictate to Him.

She made known to Him the need and left the rest up to Him.

Sounds like a good way to pray.

As is so often the case in life, mother knows best.

Hardwired for Hope

During the past decade, the theme of "hope" dominated the popular culture, especially in novels and films.

In "Man of Steel" Kal-El explains to Lois Lane that the symbol on his chest meant "hope" in his native Kryptonian.

Other books and movies were set in dystopian futures sorely in need of hope: The Hunger Games triology, the Divergent trilogy, The Book of Eli, I Am Legend, and Chappie, to name just a few.

The theme of hope or the portrayal of hopelessness have been common themes for previous generations as well, as the arts have reflected their times.

For example, there is the film that helped launch Mel Gibson's career, 1979's Mad Max. set in a violent and self-destructing Australia.

In the same vein, when the Star Wars franchise launched two years before that, Episode IV was titled "A New Hope," as Luke Skywalker represented the one who would deliver the galaxy from the likes of Darth Vader and an oppressive Empire.

Popular culture's recognition of the power of hope should come as no surprise.

We, as creatures made in the image of our Creator, have been hardwired for hope.

We need hope in order to thrive. The darkest moments that we face are the ones permeated with hopelessness, the sense that nothing will get better.

Unfortunately, the majority of worldviews and belief systems leave a person hopeless.

Worldviews that reject God are inherently bereft of hope.

Belief systems that portray God as vindictive, capricious, or legalistic leave their adherents doubtful of their standing with him.

As I often say, your worldview or belief system is only as good as what it does for you on your deathbed. If it robs you of hope, what good is it?

Our Creator knows that we thrive on hope, so hope He provides, in the flesh and blood presence of the Savior, Jesus.

If Jesus' earthly ministry were happening in the 21st century instead of the 1st century, maybe He would have revised one of His "I Am" statements to say, "I am the Hope of the world."

Then He could have said to His Church, "You are the hope of the world," because that is indeed what the Church is.

The Church's ministry of reconciliation and its message of forgiveness are the only hope that this world has.

Any proclamation that falls short of delivering Jesus does just that.

It falls short.

It falls short of offering the hope that we need.

It falls short of giving us what God wants us to have.

Our Creator knows that we are hardwired for hope, because He designed us that way.

He knows that hope is the spring from which faith and love flow (Colossians 1:5).

He knows that hope can temper the pangs of grief and sorrow (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

Hope we need, and hope God provides, through His Son Jesus Christ, the Hope of the world.

Are Your Britches Getting Tight?

"Never get too big for your britches!"

That word of warning from our 33rd president, Harry Truman, was not intended to be diet or fashion advice.

He meant, "Don't get too full of yourself, too prideful or arrogant."

In Ezekiel 36, the God of Israel, Yahweh, wanted His people to learn that same lesson.

It was their pride and arrogance that had set up the Israelites for their acts of idolatry.

They had reasoned, "We are Yahweh's chosen people. We can get away with anything because He won't call us on it."

And so they worshipped false gods.

Which led to their punishment at the hands of the Babylonians.

In 597 B.C. King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon took the best and brightest of ancient Israel into captivity, leaving those left behind without leadership and without hope.

Eleven years later, the capital city of Jerusalem and its Temple were destroyed by fire.

With Israel's punishment completed, the time for promises had come.

Yahweh promised to restore the nation of ancient Israel, but He had this to say about it.

"It is not for your sake, O house of Israel, that I am going to do these things, but for the sake of My holy name, which you have profaned (i.e., made common) among the nations where you have gone. I will show the holiness of My great name, which has been profaned among the nations, the name you have profaned among them" (Ezekiel 36:22-23).

I'm not delivering you for your sake, but for Mine -- that's Yahweh's message to ancient Israel. It's also His message to us.

Quite frankly it seems a little rude, maybe even a little harsh. "You're saying, Yahweh, that we don't deserve deliverance, that we should simply be grateful that you deign to save us?"

And the answer to that question is "Yes!"

Yahweh's words to ancient Israel and to us are really the voice of His grace.

The voice of grace says, "You don't deserve it, but I'm delivering you anyway. And by the way, all the glory goes to the Lord, none to you."

It's only our sinful sense of pride that chafes at those words.

Our new nature as a follower of Jesus rejoices to sing:

By grace! None dare lay claim to merit;
Our works and conduct have no worth.
God in His love sent our Redeemer,
Christ Jesus, to this sinful earth;
His death did for our sins atone,
And we are saved by grace alone. Amen.
(Lutheran Service Book, 566. Public domain)

Are you suffering? Make it a virtue!

Hurricane Florence. Childlessness. Santa Fe High School. Hunger. California wildfires. Cancer. Terrorism. Death.

All of these are causes of a malady that afflicts all of creation, the malady of suffering.

I've begun to read "Don't Sing Songs to a Heavy Heart: How to relate to those who are suffering," by Ken Haugk.

As he lists numerous biblical characters who faced various forms of affliction, trauma, and sorrow, I reflected on how we in 21st century America regard suffering as foreign to our human experience. It is to be avoided however possible.

That's why we numb with alcohol, drugs, food, sex, and whatever else we can grab to mask our pains.
As counter-intuitive as it sounds, we need to embrace suffering as an inevitable reality of life. Rather than numb and avoid, we can choose to endure and even thrive in suffering.

That's the biblical perspective that we hear from the apostle Paul. He writes to the Romans, "We also rejoice in our sufferings, for we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." (Romans 5:3, 4)

It's not enough for us to say in resignation, "This too shall pass." Because sometimes suffering is chronic, not passing. It's better to say, "Let's look for the good that God will bring through the suffering."

That's the key. Suffering is not just a physical or emotional experience. It is also profoundly spiritual.

My suffering is connected to my faith. It even has the ability to challenge that faith.

But it need not destroy that faith. Although God may seem remote during our times of pain, anguish, or grief, He is not.

God is present to bring good out of ill, and blessing from suffering.

He is present with us in His Son who suffered for us.

That's how we can redeem our suffering, how we can make it a virtue.

Trust that God, who is bigger than your suffering, is up to something good.