Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His love endures forever. Let Israel say, "His love endures forever." Let the house of Aaron say, "His love endures forever." Let those who fear the Lord say, "His love endures forever." In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and He answered by setting me free. The Lord is with me. I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?
(Verses 1-6) Italics, mine.
It is for freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. Galatians 5:1
The news out of New York City on February 2, 2014, was chilling. The actor,Philip Seymour Hoffman, was found dead on the floor of his Greenwich Village apartment. A syringe still stuck in his arm. Nearby, an envelope containing heroin. Twenty years ago, Hoffman quit drugs and alcohol. Realized he was an addict. But something lured him back into the slavery he'd avoided for all those years. Trapped again by the enemy. Cornered by his appetites. Ultimately destroyed by the bondage he at once hated and loved. Heroin may not be our preferred addiction, but any of us who can't break free are just as trapped. And the consequences, just as deadly.
I want to put Jesus into this situation for a moment. Transfer Him into 2014 downtown NYC. In the flesh, because, of course, He is already there, all over, all knowing, all powerful. But we've clearly been allowed some choices. Jesus isn't robed in Middle Eastern B.C. togas and sandals. His boots crunch the snow as He ambles down Broadway wearing a parka and knitted ski hat. His breath creates a stream of foggy air as Jesus speaks to the vendor at the corner of Broadway and 41st Street. "How are you, man?" he asks.
"Hey, man, I'm fine." The vendor a little taken aback by the casual question. "It's cool of you to ask."
Jesus walks on down the street. There is an aching in his heart as He walks past the druggies and the homeless. Bumping shoulders with the depressed and anxious grieves Him in a way we can't conceive. Because He is the answer to their brokenness. Jesus sees chains where we see irresponsibility. Fetters where we judge weakness. And He knows how to free us. But we have to let Him.
"What do you want?" asks Jesus of the homeless woman asking Him for money. "Really?" Not a question of the moment, but of a lifetime.
Hopeless now, the addiction of her soul has overtaken her will to live without the drugs..."Just a few bucks, sir."
"I can free you from this addiction." His eyes now filling with tears. "I hate to see you this way."
"What's it to you?" Wanting Him to give her money and then go away.
"This is what I came for." Jesus takes her hand, pushing up the sleeve of her tawdry, ragged red coat. "To free you from this." And He points to the needle marks. The infected veins that streak her arm. She jerks her arm free and cradles it to her chest. A tiny ray of hope makes her flinch for a moment. "How?"
In the shivering cold of the February day, Jesus tells her how He'd seen her life. Knew her pain. Loved her enough to meet her this day, this hour, this moment. Eternity kissing time. Just for her. Would she believe in Him? The God Who created her wanting more for her than she wanted for herself?
"I don't know." Trust was a lost virtue in her. She'd been burned so many times before. But Jesus knew her in a way she'd never dreamed possible. What if she could really be free? And the woman remembered how, on this same street corner the previous Friday, she'd challenged God. "You don't care about someone like me!" And she'd actually stuck her fist into the air--cursing Him. And here He was...face to face. She melted then. Never been so loved. That He would come to Earth to meet her in the slushy snow of a New York City street. The woman sobbed into His coat as Jesus led her to a shelter, gave her food and hot coffee. She will never be the same. It was for her freedom that He set her free. Free now to choose life. Not just death. Free now to leave the chains of her addiction, which dictated her every move and ruined all of her relationships, free to be free. To take steps, one by one, in another direction.
Deeper into Manhattan. Into Greenwich Village. A man lay dead attached still to the syringe of his addiction. The door shut to the mother of his children. To his best friend. To all but those who supplied the deadly ropes that tied him to his bondage. Jesus knew this man. Loved this man. Grieved over the choices that left him dead...alone. I don't know the arc of Hoffman's life. How he wound up so grievously enslaved. But I do know that it's never what God would choose for us. I know that Jesus still meets us in our need. Always. Four people have been arrested for selling the actor illegal drugs. Man indeed can do things to us when we rely on them to meet the deepest desires of our soul. Man can't do that. Man can only medicate.
Jesus walks our streets and avenues still talking to us. Still asking us what we really want. If we can reply that what we needed all along was Him, He promises to set us free! So that we'll be free, truly. Free to choose not to, as well as to choose to. When my heart is fully satisfied in Jesus, I no longer need the façade of comfort afforded me by my addictions. The Lord is with me. Just like He was with the woman on the street. The God of everything holds me in His caress and I'm no longer afraid of being chained again.
(Verses 1-6) Italics, mine.
It is for freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. Galatians 5:1
The news out of New York City on February 2, 2014, was chilling. The actor,Philip Seymour Hoffman, was found dead on the floor of his Greenwich Village apartment. A syringe still stuck in his arm. Nearby, an envelope containing heroin. Twenty years ago, Hoffman quit drugs and alcohol. Realized he was an addict. But something lured him back into the slavery he'd avoided for all those years. Trapped again by the enemy. Cornered by his appetites. Ultimately destroyed by the bondage he at once hated and loved. Heroin may not be our preferred addiction, but any of us who can't break free are just as trapped. And the consequences, just as deadly.
I want to put Jesus into this situation for a moment. Transfer Him into 2014 downtown NYC. In the flesh, because, of course, He is already there, all over, all knowing, all powerful. But we've clearly been allowed some choices. Jesus isn't robed in Middle Eastern B.C. togas and sandals. His boots crunch the snow as He ambles down Broadway wearing a parka and knitted ski hat. His breath creates a stream of foggy air as Jesus speaks to the vendor at the corner of Broadway and 41st Street. "How are you, man?" he asks.
"Hey, man, I'm fine." The vendor a little taken aback by the casual question. "It's cool of you to ask."
Jesus walks on down the street. There is an aching in his heart as He walks past the druggies and the homeless. Bumping shoulders with the depressed and anxious grieves Him in a way we can't conceive. Because He is the answer to their brokenness. Jesus sees chains where we see irresponsibility. Fetters where we judge weakness. And He knows how to free us. But we have to let Him.
"What do you want?" asks Jesus of the homeless woman asking Him for money. "Really?" Not a question of the moment, but of a lifetime.
Hopeless now, the addiction of her soul has overtaken her will to live without the drugs..."Just a few bucks, sir."
"I can free you from this addiction." His eyes now filling with tears. "I hate to see you this way."
"What's it to you?" Wanting Him to give her money and then go away.
"This is what I came for." Jesus takes her hand, pushing up the sleeve of her tawdry, ragged red coat. "To free you from this." And He points to the needle marks. The infected veins that streak her arm. She jerks her arm free and cradles it to her chest. A tiny ray of hope makes her flinch for a moment. "How?"
In the shivering cold of the February day, Jesus tells her how He'd seen her life. Knew her pain. Loved her enough to meet her this day, this hour, this moment. Eternity kissing time. Just for her. Would she believe in Him? The God Who created her wanting more for her than she wanted for herself?
"I don't know." Trust was a lost virtue in her. She'd been burned so many times before. But Jesus knew her in a way she'd never dreamed possible. What if she could really be free? And the woman remembered how, on this same street corner the previous Friday, she'd challenged God. "You don't care about someone like me!" And she'd actually stuck her fist into the air--cursing Him. And here He was...face to face. She melted then. Never been so loved. That He would come to Earth to meet her in the slushy snow of a New York City street. The woman sobbed into His coat as Jesus led her to a shelter, gave her food and hot coffee. She will never be the same. It was for her freedom that He set her free. Free now to choose life. Not just death. Free now to leave the chains of her addiction, which dictated her every move and ruined all of her relationships, free to be free. To take steps, one by one, in another direction.
Deeper into Manhattan. Into Greenwich Village. A man lay dead attached still to the syringe of his addiction. The door shut to the mother of his children. To his best friend. To all but those who supplied the deadly ropes that tied him to his bondage. Jesus knew this man. Loved this man. Grieved over the choices that left him dead...alone. I don't know the arc of Hoffman's life. How he wound up so grievously enslaved. But I do know that it's never what God would choose for us. I know that Jesus still meets us in our need. Always. Four people have been arrested for selling the actor illegal drugs. Man indeed can do things to us when we rely on them to meet the deepest desires of our soul. Man can't do that. Man can only medicate.
Jesus walks our streets and avenues still talking to us. Still asking us what we really want. If we can reply that what we needed all along was Him, He promises to set us free! So that we'll be free, truly. Free to choose not to, as well as to choose to. When my heart is fully satisfied in Jesus, I no longer need the façade of comfort afforded me by my addictions. The Lord is with me. Just like He was with the woman on the street. The God of everything holds me in His caress and I'm no longer afraid of being chained again.
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