God has taken His place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods He holds judgment: "How long will you judge unjustly and show partiality to the wicked? Give justice to the weak and fatherless. Maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and needy. Deliver them from the hand of the wicked." (Verses 1-4)
My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For is a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, "You sit here in a good place,"while you say to the poor man, "You stand over there,"or, "Sit down at my feet,"have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?....If you really fulfil the royal law according to Scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," you are doing well. James 2
There you have it. The heart of God.
I will call him Adam. He was newly homeless when he came to sit in our little downtown church here at the beach. In his late thirties and suffering from some phobia seemingly untreated by medications he either refused to take or couldn't afford. He rode a bicycle he'd refurbished as best he could. Our church has donuts and coffee after the services and I think he came for that at first.
Every Tuesday night for several years now, the men's Bible study has been at the Farish house. As with the other men, Adam was invited to attend. Our son, a police officer, was horrified when we told him we'd invited Adam over early so he could eat with us before the study. So, Will came, too. Just to make sure we were safe. Our homeless friend was hungry. As a cook, it was gratifying to see him eat so much. Adam clearly enjoyed being with a family, talking with Will and sharing about himself. That is, of course, where things broke down a bit. He could communicate with us in a straight line for just so long, then he was somewhere in another orbit.
It became a habit for Adam to eat with us before study. Even showered a time or two. Sometimes he'd ride up with another friend who was hungry. Most of the time they'd stay for the study which would then take left and right turns into some territory the men would get lost trying to navigate with Adam. We gave him a leather coat Bill didn't wear. I read his poetry. We loved him for his quirkiness. Then he was gone. In more ways than one. As the weeks on the streets prolonged, Adam seemed farther away. Less in touch with himself and others. Hair and beard grown long and scruffy. I haven't seen him for months.
Becoming a Christian is supposed to mean developing a heart like God's. Caring about what He cares about because He's our Father and He's raised us well. I understand with Will that it's dangerous to let just anyone into our homes these days. The times were dangerous when Jesus told the story of the Samaritan who stopped to help the wounded man on the road to Jericho, too. The question Jesus was answering, "Who is my neighbor?" Apparently, the person who needs our mercy. Not just the people who live next door and come over for barbeque on occasion.
The lawyer wanted to know what he had to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus asked him what the Law said. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." That's when the "Who is my neighbor?" came up. In other words, "Who is it right for me to exclude?" "What's the bare minimum for me to care about others and still get into heaven?" Really?
Jesus wanted to know which of the people who saw the man, the victim of a bloody robbery, fulfilled the definition of neighbor? The priest and the Levite who walked by on the other side? Or the Samaritan who bound his wounds and placed him on his own donkey, took him to an inn to be cared for and paid for the man's stay? The Samaritan, not even a godly Jew (or a church-going Christian, perhaps), went way out of his way to help someone he didn't know. While the godly people, the ones you'd expect to help a person in need, understood the danger, perhaps, but also the work it would be to help this miserable person out. No time. Too busy. Got lots of God's work to do today without this.
The lawyer's answer might as well have been rhetorical by the time Jesus finished the story. "Who's the friend?" The one who showed mercy. The one whose own life wasn't so important he couldn't stop what he was doing and help a brother out...or a total stranger. I'm sure God is still honored when we do good to our neighbor with a heart that resists it even so. If the Levite had stopped, looked around to make sure the whole world saw he was caring for the wretch there bleeding in the street, would that be the same? The man would've been taken care of just the same. But it's mercy God is looking for. Again with the heart. The injured man can either be a good work or a neighbor. To the world, it looks the same. Maybe not to our Father.
Why else would the two religious people not stop? I think, judgment. The guy shouldn't have been out here at night alone. Serves him right. Wonder if he was selling drugs. Probably homeless, anyway. I'd be unclean if I touched him. Several ritual cleansings I don't have time for when he probably brought this on himself. I hope this isn't sounding too familiar. I know I've been guilty of judging when I should've been helping. Mercy costs us something. Real mercy is why I do what I do. I have choices. Don't help. The man isn't my neighbor, so why? I can help because I have to. The man still gets what he needs, I just don't really care. I can stand over the poor victim and berate his stupidity for getting himself in this mess in the first place. Or, I can help to bind his wounds because I understand the mercy which bound my own. If I remember how Jesus found me, loved me and cleaned me up, my only recourse is mercy toward another who is destitute and incapable of helping herself.
When God holds court, He wants to know what I've done for those He cares about. He watches to see if I'll dirty my hands as He dirtied His. In ever increasing heaps of grace, my Father loves me through my ups and downs. Teaching me what mercy actually looks like. Creating a well of reserve in me to heap upon a world judged guilty, for sure, just like me. Ah, but, "mercy triumphs over judgement (James)!" Because we all know what we deserve! And mercy is the opposite. A surprise. We await the guillotine and receive a reprieve. Therein lies the triumph...therein is the love.
My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For is a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, "You sit here in a good place,"while you say to the poor man, "You stand over there,"or, "Sit down at my feet,"have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?....If you really fulfil the royal law according to Scripture, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," you are doing well. James 2
There you have it. The heart of God.
I will call him Adam. He was newly homeless when he came to sit in our little downtown church here at the beach. In his late thirties and suffering from some phobia seemingly untreated by medications he either refused to take or couldn't afford. He rode a bicycle he'd refurbished as best he could. Our church has donuts and coffee after the services and I think he came for that at first.
Every Tuesday night for several years now, the men's Bible study has been at the Farish house. As with the other men, Adam was invited to attend. Our son, a police officer, was horrified when we told him we'd invited Adam over early so he could eat with us before the study. So, Will came, too. Just to make sure we were safe. Our homeless friend was hungry. As a cook, it was gratifying to see him eat so much. Adam clearly enjoyed being with a family, talking with Will and sharing about himself. That is, of course, where things broke down a bit. He could communicate with us in a straight line for just so long, then he was somewhere in another orbit.
It became a habit for Adam to eat with us before study. Even showered a time or two. Sometimes he'd ride up with another friend who was hungry. Most of the time they'd stay for the study which would then take left and right turns into some territory the men would get lost trying to navigate with Adam. We gave him a leather coat Bill didn't wear. I read his poetry. We loved him for his quirkiness. Then he was gone. In more ways than one. As the weeks on the streets prolonged, Adam seemed farther away. Less in touch with himself and others. Hair and beard grown long and scruffy. I haven't seen him for months.
Becoming a Christian is supposed to mean developing a heart like God's. Caring about what He cares about because He's our Father and He's raised us well. I understand with Will that it's dangerous to let just anyone into our homes these days. The times were dangerous when Jesus told the story of the Samaritan who stopped to help the wounded man on the road to Jericho, too. The question Jesus was answering, "Who is my neighbor?" Apparently, the person who needs our mercy. Not just the people who live next door and come over for barbeque on occasion.
The lawyer wanted to know what he had to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus asked him what the Law said. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." That's when the "Who is my neighbor?" came up. In other words, "Who is it right for me to exclude?" "What's the bare minimum for me to care about others and still get into heaven?" Really?
Jesus wanted to know which of the people who saw the man, the victim of a bloody robbery, fulfilled the definition of neighbor? The priest and the Levite who walked by on the other side? Or the Samaritan who bound his wounds and placed him on his own donkey, took him to an inn to be cared for and paid for the man's stay? The Samaritan, not even a godly Jew (or a church-going Christian, perhaps), went way out of his way to help someone he didn't know. While the godly people, the ones you'd expect to help a person in need, understood the danger, perhaps, but also the work it would be to help this miserable person out. No time. Too busy. Got lots of God's work to do today without this.
The lawyer's answer might as well have been rhetorical by the time Jesus finished the story. "Who's the friend?" The one who showed mercy. The one whose own life wasn't so important he couldn't stop what he was doing and help a brother out...or a total stranger. I'm sure God is still honored when we do good to our neighbor with a heart that resists it even so. If the Levite had stopped, looked around to make sure the whole world saw he was caring for the wretch there bleeding in the street, would that be the same? The man would've been taken care of just the same. But it's mercy God is looking for. Again with the heart. The injured man can either be a good work or a neighbor. To the world, it looks the same. Maybe not to our Father.
Why else would the two religious people not stop? I think, judgment. The guy shouldn't have been out here at night alone. Serves him right. Wonder if he was selling drugs. Probably homeless, anyway. I'd be unclean if I touched him. Several ritual cleansings I don't have time for when he probably brought this on himself. I hope this isn't sounding too familiar. I know I've been guilty of judging when I should've been helping. Mercy costs us something. Real mercy is why I do what I do. I have choices. Don't help. The man isn't my neighbor, so why? I can help because I have to. The man still gets what he needs, I just don't really care. I can stand over the poor victim and berate his stupidity for getting himself in this mess in the first place. Or, I can help to bind his wounds because I understand the mercy which bound my own. If I remember how Jesus found me, loved me and cleaned me up, my only recourse is mercy toward another who is destitute and incapable of helping herself.
When God holds court, He wants to know what I've done for those He cares about. He watches to see if I'll dirty my hands as He dirtied His. In ever increasing heaps of grace, my Father loves me through my ups and downs. Teaching me what mercy actually looks like. Creating a well of reserve in me to heap upon a world judged guilty, for sure, just like me. Ah, but, "mercy triumphs over judgement (James)!" Because we all know what we deserve! And mercy is the opposite. A surprise. We await the guillotine and receive a reprieve. Therein lies the triumph...therein is the love.
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