Love

“Lord, Don’t You Care?”

~ seeingeternity

caananite

Something struck me the other day as I read the familiar story of Martha and Mary. It’s one of those stories I tend to scan past because, well, I’ve read it a million times! This time, though, I suddenly felt like I might be missing something important.

I stopped, backed up, and read the passage again, silently sending up what I think of as “question-mark prayers” (?…?…?) asking for insight. What was I missing?

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

This time I saw it. Martha’s accusatory question of Jesus (“Lord, don’t you care…?“) echoed what Jesus’ disciples had said to him in a different setting:

That day when evening came, [Jesus] said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4:35-40)

In both cases Jesus’ response to being asked, “Don’t you care?” was a bit unexpected. Instead of reassuring Martha and the disciples of his love and concern for them, he rebuked them!  His response in the storm sounds almost astonished: “Why are you so afraid?”  It was inconceivable to him that he, who was Love, could be seen as somehow uncaring. 

He would soon stand silent, seemingly indifferent as Pilate, the chief priests and elders accused him of subversion and other capital crimes… but being charged with “not caring”? It stung his heart.

There’s another Bible story that stands in sharp contrast to the two stories above. It’s a less familiar and far less comfortable story, but it holds an important key for those of us who wrestle with how not to question God’s love during times of trial and suffering.

It’s the story of the Canaanite woman.

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon.  A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”

Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”

He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.

He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

“Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.  (Mt 15:21-28)

Wow.  I wouldn’t have handled this well.

When Jesus ignored my repeated cries and kept walking, not even acknowledging that he heard me, I would have said, “Lord, don’t you care?”

When he finally responded but just to say, “Not my problem”, I would have said (louder), “Lord, don’t you care?”

When he compared me–as I’m on my knees begging–to a pet dog begging at the family table, I would have screamed in shock and outrage, “LORD, DON’T YOU CARE?”

I would have been offended, deeply offended.  But Jesus drew a line in the sand when he said, “Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”  (Mt 11:6)  

Offense? Not an option.

I have found, over my 60 years, that my Beloved often works his greatest miracles in my life through offense.  It is always my choice to either get offended and withdraw (angry, hurt, rejected) or to show “great faith” like the Canaanite woman by fearlessly pursuing him, trusting that he cares even when it doesn’t look like it. Sometimes I get it right and sometimes I fail miserably, but this I know: it is his love that presses us beyond ourselves to put new levels of faith, holiness and peace within our grasp.  

 © 2016 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?

What is Worship?

~ seeingeternity

“Worship | to honor with extravagant love and extreme submission.” (Webster’s Dictionary, 1828)

It’s about our lives, not just our songs.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Believe me, woman, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You people worship what you do not know. We worship what we know, because salvation is from the Jews.  But a time is coming—and now is here—when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such people to be his worshipers.  God is spirit, and the people who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.'” (John 4:21-24)

Questions or Comments?

Keep In Step With the Spirit: a Tango

~ seeingeternity

I became a Christian at age 7, in an earthshaking moment that left me sobbing on a pew in our small Baptist church.

My parents were sitting next to me, hymnbooks open as they sang the offertory hymn: “Bring Ye All the Tithes Into the Storehouse”. Collection plates were being passed, all decently and in order… until I leaned over and whispered urgently to my mother: “I need to get saved!” Out of nowhere my heart had been stricken with my sin, and I knew I needed a Savior.

My mother looked startled, then embarrassed. It was the wrong time. The right time was at the end of the service when the pastor issued the “invitation” and the choir sang “Just As I Am.” But I tearfully persisted until my mother, in an act of courage I will never forget, stood up and walked with me out into the aisle, dodging confused deacons as we marched down to the front of the church.

The pastor was not standing and waiting (it was the wrong time) but was sitting off to one side, head down, going over his sermon notes. My mother, red-faced, led me over to him. The church program came to a sudden halt as a fragile 7-year-old child with a burning heart prayed “the sinner’s prayer” and leapt wildly into the kingdom of God.

That was the first time I remember meeting the Holy Spirit. It was an awkward introduction–not for me, but for the church. But the church, like the pastor, rose to the occasion, and to this day when I read Luke 15:7 about the rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents, I see the radiant faces of that congregation as I confessed to them my new faith. They looked like angels.

Over the 50 years since, my understanding and grasp of what it means to “walk in the Spirit” have remained elusive. I’m an engineer’s daughter, an engineer’s wife. I like patterns, formulas that work the same every time. Formulas make me feel secure. I’d almost prefer to have orders float down from heaven each day like manna to tell me what I should do, where I should go, what decisions I should make. No guesswork. No risk. No–

No.

Walking in the Spirit is precisely NOT that. Not compliance with a set of rules, even highly moral ones. Not adhering to church traditions, even the fresh new traditions that we ourselves might’ve helped form. Not being swayed by appeals to emotion, even from people we trust.

“Since you died with Christ to the elemental spiritual forces of this world, why, as though you still belonged to the world, do you submit to its rules: ‘Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!’? These rules, which have to do with things that are all destined to perish with use, are based on merely human commands and teachings. Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” (Gal 5:21-23)

To me, walking in the Spirit is more like an intimate dance, requiring real-time improvisation as we respond to the Holy Wind who “blows wherever it pleases” (John 3:8). I found the following description by Argentine tango instructors Stephen and Susan Brown very thought-provoking:

“Improvisation… requires the willingness to take risks and look foolish in the milonga. You need to accept this possibility if you want to grow your dance.

“The leader uses subtle changes in the pressure and position of his torso to let the follower know where to place each foot. He then invents a step of his own to accompany her, and so on until the end of the song. This is why the tango appears so complex, and why the two partners’ legs manage to intertwine in such a remarkable way. Herein lies the beauty, and the puzzle, of the tango.

“Because of the moment-by-moment improvisational relationship between partners, the tango demands that we pay attention in a way few of us have ever done before. Two steps backward don’t necessarily guarantee a third…. In the tango, our senses are magnified. This heightened sensitivity allows us to learn a lot about our partner very quickly, on a non-verbal, intuitive level. Through this intuitive connection, the tango offers us something very enticing: the chance to create a dance that is completely one-of-a-kind.”

And that is exactly what I believe happens to each of us as we learn to walk in the Spirit. God Himself creates a dance with us, and for us, that’s one-of-a-kind. We’re not intended to be passive puppets on God’s strings; we’re intended to be creative companions to God, whose very image we bear, growing ever more like Him as we learn His ways through interacting with Him. Our part of the dance is vital, requiring our whole heart, soul, and mind. (Mt 22:37) It’s infinitely more demanding than just following orders, but also far more simple:

We dance, step by step. He makes all the rest of it happen.

© 2014 Deborah Morris

Questions or Comments?