| November 5, 2007 - A Transformation | | Print | |
|
~ You are welcome to forward this to others, please credit the author. ~
A Transformation
by Deborah Beach Giordano © November 5, 2007 In his travels Jesus passed through the town of Jericho, where a man named Zacchaeus lived. Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector, and very rich. Jesus saves. That’s what it says on a sign in front of the First Baptist Church. It’s been the same for years: timeless, unchanging. Except after our first rainstorm, when it said "J_SUS SAV_S." I guess the E’s were a bit loose. And then last Friday morning, when someone had rearranged the letters to spell "JESSE VASS." I always wonder, whenever I see that kind of "Christian code" emblazoned on banners, bumper stickers, and billboards. What purpose does it serve? Is it there to remind believers of something we already know? Or is intended as an identifying mark: assuring other drivers that this car is owned by A Certified Christian? Does that mean, as a fellow Christian, I’m not supposed to honk if they are doping off and just sitting there when the signal turns green? (If so, it doesn’t work. At least not with me.) And what about those Baptists? Why are they so insistent on telling everybody? Do they think that, otherwise, someone might suspect them of being Buddhists? I know. I’m being silly here. I realize that these signs are meant as "proclamations of faith" — proud declarations that Jesus has changed our lives. But I wonder about our words. I worry that they can become "sound and fury, signifying nothing." Sometimes words, phrases, slogans ... can become so familiar that we don’t even hear them. Like that sign in front of the church: it has been the same for so long that I don’t even see it anymore. It was only when the letters were rearranged that I noticed it again. (Thanks to "Jesse.") What do our words — our "Christian" words — really mean? What, precisely, does Jesus "save" us from? And how do we convey this information to others? For a nonbeliever, it doesn’t matter whether the sign says "Jesus saves" or "Jesse vass." Neither pair of words mean anything by themselves. They won’t convince me that Jesus’ teachings can change my life, or give me hope, or infuse my soul with joy. If anything, they may make me feel intimidated, excluded: an outsider who doesn’t "speak the language"; who doesn’t understand what the words mean, who isn’t sure if she believes, who isn’t sure that she belongs. Or wants to. Words — that we hardly even notice — can drive people away. And yet... they long to see the Lord. Their hearts yearn for a meeting with the One Who Loves and Forgives. So they stand back, away from the crowd; they watch from a safe distance, like Zacchaeus. Up in the tree, out of the hustle and bustle, where no one can see them or judge them, they wait. All he wanted was "to see the Lord." Pushed aside by the crowd, hated and shunned by the people (a tax collector!!), ashamed of his life, all Zacchaeus could hope for was to set eyes on the Messiah. There would be no place at the table for him: his hands were dirty with ill-gotten gains, his soul stained by greed and selfishness. Fearful of condemnation, yet longing ... longing so desperately to see Jesus, Zacchaeus waited — safely hidden, where he could not be seen. Soon the Lord arrived: radiant, alive — and surrounded. Jesus was encircled by those in the know: disciples, followers, seekers, people who prayed often, who went to weekly worship, people who knew all of the right words. Zacchaeus’ heart must have nearly broken to have felt so utterly outside of the Kingdom, so hopeless. And then Jesus called him by name. "Zacchaeus! What are you doing up there so far away from Me? Come down, for tonight I am staying with you." How would it feel to be sincerely welcomed — after having felt excluded, shut out, shunned for so long a time? How would it feel to be invited in — after so much longing? It would be transforming. It would change a person’s heart, a person’s hope, a person’s life. At that very instant Zacchaeus — the short guy — stood tall and proud, and announced that he would give half of all his riches to the poor. And he promised to make restitution for the wrongs he had done, fourfold. How would it feel to be so changed, so loved? I hope we know how it would feel — how it does feel. I hope we all feel that love, forgiveness, and the strength and transforming grace of Christ’s invitation every day. I hope that love fuels our every word, our every deed, our every prayer. And I hope we always remember that we are all guests: invited to be a part of the Lord’s work and to eat at His table — not entitled to be there. Not one of us is perfect, not one of us has the right to scorn or judge another, or to try to push others away from God’s presence. We all have more than enough to do in turning our own lives toward the Light. How can we convince others that "Jesus saves"? Not by signs or slogans, not by posters or promises ... but by doing what the Lord did: by calling people by name; seeing them for who they are, loving them as they are, and sharing in their lives. And Jesus said, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a child of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost." Virtual hugs and real-time blessings, Deborah + This Week’s Suggested Spiritual Exercise: Give thanks to God for those who have invited you into their lives; who have trusted you with their honesty, and blessed you with their friendship. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- JOIN OUR LIST: If you would like the weekly Reflection to be sent directly to your email address, you may join our list for free by emailing dbgiordano@comcast.net with the word "Reflections" in the subject or body of the email. The Reflections mailing list is NOT used for any other purpose. UNSUBSCRIBE: If you no longer wish to receive the weekly Reflection, reply to this email with the word "unsubscribe" in the subject or body of the email. |
| < Prev | Next > |
|---|
