"Mark this, then, you who forget God, lest I tear you apart, and there be none to deliver! The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies Me. To one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!" (Vs. 22-23)
Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have not compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will never forget you. Isaiah 49
It was a very warm day in the desert near Samaria. Ten lepers, pariahs to their neighbors, had been banished by their uncleanness to the outskirts of town where they couldn't infect others with their filthy, disfiguring disease. Day after day they struggled to stay alive. Hopelessness had drained them of the will to live. Some had no fingers or toes. Others had lost a foot or hand. Their wounds oozed, adding to the odor of their soiled clothing and unwashed bodies. The men had become a band of brothers with misery as their common denominator.
Jesus was walking to Jerusalem on this particular day. Outside a village between Samaria and Galilee the men saw Him. "Is that Jesus of Nazareth?" one of them asked the others.
"I think so," replied another. "But we can't even go near Him. We're unclean, man!"
That didn't matter to the others who began immediately to scream at Christ. "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" It filled the desert, echoing over cactus and rock. "Please, Master, heal us!"
The lepers were still very far off when Jesus turned to see them jumping up and down, crying out with all their might to Him.
"Go and show yourselves to the priests," was His command. Counter intuitive because they couldn't do that. They were unclean.
The men looked around at each other, checking out their limbs, seeing if they were healed. Nothing had changed from the Master's command to go into the village priests. Confused, they stood a minute wondering. But Jesus said go, so they hurried into the village. On their way, all of them were healed of leprosy. Imagine their joy. The miraculous cleansing of their bodies. The return to the families from which they had been separated. The synagogue priests declared them clean against the odds. New life.
Maybe it was because the joy of reunion with loved ones made them preoccupied with getting a bath, putting on a new shirt and sitting down to dinner with their wives and kids that they forgot Who healed them. Forgot to find Him and offer Him the gratitude He deserved. Maybe they didn't think He would still be where He was when they left Him. That Jesus had traveled on and they wouldn't be able to find Him. The thing is, they forgot on some level to say thanks. A basic courtesy. For small things, too. But for healing? For changing your life in a moment's time. One would think one would think to go find Jesus no matter how much the effort.
Joy indescribable gripped one of the lepers, a Samaritan. He kept looking at his hands and feet. Something more happened to him than physical healing when the priest looked at his body and pronounced it clean. A shifting. Jesus had seen not only his leprous skin, but also his deeper need. He had to find Jesus. Wherever He was. Running from the synagogue, back out the city gates with the hot sand burning his feet, the man caught up to Jesus.
"Master!" the man cried out.
Jesus turned to see him approaching and stopped. It is the Samaritan.
"Praise the God of Israel!" the man was crying. "Thank you, Jesus of Nazareth! I am well!"
Jesus looked around to see if the others were coming behind him. There were, after all, ten men huddled together in their leprous companionship. Only one.
"Where are the other guys?" Jesus asked.
The Samaritan fell on his face, grasped the feet of Jesus, and continued to give thanks for the amazing thing that just happened to him.
"There were ten men. Nine Jewish. And you. A Samaritan. Was no one except this foreigner grateful enough to find me and give thanks?" Jesus making a point. Not about the fact this man was foreign. But that He is looking for the thankful heart, even outside of Judaism. If the ones to whom He came forgot Him, He would reach out to a people who had not been His people.
"Rise up, man, and go your way. You have been healed because of your faith in Me!" Jesus said as He took the man's hand and helped him to his feet.
Leaping and jumping, abandoning himself to the joy of his personal salvation, the man hurried back to town to live his life again.
Thanksgiving shows our hearts. Did the other nine have a sense of entitlement? Why did they not run back with humility and gratitude to find Jesus? What is going on in a heart that forgets?
God doesn't want our sacrifices -- the ones showing just how pious we are. He wants us to be thankful. We are to bring our tithes and offerings with hilarity to the altar, thankful for all we have to give back. Joyful for all we have been given. Dancing around the throne of grace, kissing the Son and giving glory to the Father. Forgetting ourselves. Remembering His goodness, grace and mercy.
Who takes a gift without saying, "Thanks" anyway.
Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have not compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will never forget you. Isaiah 49
It was a very warm day in the desert near Samaria. Ten lepers, pariahs to their neighbors, had been banished by their uncleanness to the outskirts of town where they couldn't infect others with their filthy, disfiguring disease. Day after day they struggled to stay alive. Hopelessness had drained them of the will to live. Some had no fingers or toes. Others had lost a foot or hand. Their wounds oozed, adding to the odor of their soiled clothing and unwashed bodies. The men had become a band of brothers with misery as their common denominator.
Jesus was walking to Jerusalem on this particular day. Outside a village between Samaria and Galilee the men saw Him. "Is that Jesus of Nazareth?" one of them asked the others.
"I think so," replied another. "But we can't even go near Him. We're unclean, man!"
That didn't matter to the others who began immediately to scream at Christ. "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" It filled the desert, echoing over cactus and rock. "Please, Master, heal us!"
The lepers were still very far off when Jesus turned to see them jumping up and down, crying out with all their might to Him.
"Go and show yourselves to the priests," was His command. Counter intuitive because they couldn't do that. They were unclean.
The men looked around at each other, checking out their limbs, seeing if they were healed. Nothing had changed from the Master's command to go into the village priests. Confused, they stood a minute wondering. But Jesus said go, so they hurried into the village. On their way, all of them were healed of leprosy. Imagine their joy. The miraculous cleansing of their bodies. The return to the families from which they had been separated. The synagogue priests declared them clean against the odds. New life.
Maybe it was because the joy of reunion with loved ones made them preoccupied with getting a bath, putting on a new shirt and sitting down to dinner with their wives and kids that they forgot Who healed them. Forgot to find Him and offer Him the gratitude He deserved. Maybe they didn't think He would still be where He was when they left Him. That Jesus had traveled on and they wouldn't be able to find Him. The thing is, they forgot on some level to say thanks. A basic courtesy. For small things, too. But for healing? For changing your life in a moment's time. One would think one would think to go find Jesus no matter how much the effort.
Joy indescribable gripped one of the lepers, a Samaritan. He kept looking at his hands and feet. Something more happened to him than physical healing when the priest looked at his body and pronounced it clean. A shifting. Jesus had seen not only his leprous skin, but also his deeper need. He had to find Jesus. Wherever He was. Running from the synagogue, back out the city gates with the hot sand burning his feet, the man caught up to Jesus.
"Master!" the man cried out.
Jesus turned to see him approaching and stopped. It is the Samaritan.
"Praise the God of Israel!" the man was crying. "Thank you, Jesus of Nazareth! I am well!"
Jesus looked around to see if the others were coming behind him. There were, after all, ten men huddled together in their leprous companionship. Only one.
"Where are the other guys?" Jesus asked.
The Samaritan fell on his face, grasped the feet of Jesus, and continued to give thanks for the amazing thing that just happened to him.
"There were ten men. Nine Jewish. And you. A Samaritan. Was no one except this foreigner grateful enough to find me and give thanks?" Jesus making a point. Not about the fact this man was foreign. But that He is looking for the thankful heart, even outside of Judaism. If the ones to whom He came forgot Him, He would reach out to a people who had not been His people.
"Rise up, man, and go your way. You have been healed because of your faith in Me!" Jesus said as He took the man's hand and helped him to his feet.
Leaping and jumping, abandoning himself to the joy of his personal salvation, the man hurried back to town to live his life again.
Thanksgiving shows our hearts. Did the other nine have a sense of entitlement? Why did they not run back with humility and gratitude to find Jesus? What is going on in a heart that forgets?
God doesn't want our sacrifices -- the ones showing just how pious we are. He wants us to be thankful. We are to bring our tithes and offerings with hilarity to the altar, thankful for all we have to give back. Joyful for all we have been given. Dancing around the throne of grace, kissing the Son and giving glory to the Father. Forgetting ourselves. Remembering His goodness, grace and mercy.
Who takes a gift without saying, "Thanks" anyway.
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