Nothing Wasted

Have you ever seen the commercial with children picking teams for a basketball game? One of the choices is Charles Barkley. A pretty easy decision, right? Who wouldn't pick the most obviously talented, most obviously suitable player first? Jesus. I've spent a couple days reading Luke's account of the meeting between Zaccheus and Jesus. I have to be honest, here. For a long time, I have thought of this passage as nothing more than a cute, quirky story about a tiny guy who met Jesus. Zaccheus was a wee, little man, and a wee, little man was he! However, nothing in the Bible is trite or trivial. Someone once said, "All Scripture is God-breathed and God doesn't waste His breath." The Bible tells us, even the wrath of man brings God praise and the wicked have purpose. Nothing gets wasted, not even the story of a "wee little man." So, what is the larger point? (See what I did there? 😉)

Look at verse 3. The Amplified version says, "he was trying to see Jesus, which One He was," and the NLT says Zaccheus "tried to get a look at Jesus." (emphasis mine) This doesn't sound like some deep spiritual quest. It sounds more like curiosity to me; as though Zaccheus had heard some things about Jesus, perhaps was a little skeptical or wondered why all the fuss, and was simply curious. Which One? Based on Isaiah's words, Jesus wasn't much to look at. Was Zaccheus disappointed when he finally came face to face with Jesus? Maybe he was relieved Jesus wasn't "all that." I mean, Zaccheus was either so small or was so known for being so small, Luke makes a point of it. Maybe it made him feel more comfortable.

Speaking of Zaccheus' stature, what did he do for a living? Did you catch that? He was a tax collector-- chief tax collector (v.2). Tax collectors had terrible reputations. They were Jewish employees of a Gentile government, collecting money from their own people. They were authorized to charge whatever price so long as the Roman government got its cut. Anything Zaccheus and his boys demanded over and above the actual Roman tax was theirs to keep. To the Jews, this was evil on so many levels, and they looked down on such people. Couple that with Zaccheus' physical appearance, and he had become quite accustomed to everyone looking down on him. Everyone except Jesus. Luke tells us in verse 5, Jesus looked up when He reached the spot where Zaccheus had perched himself for a bird's-eye view. Imagine the scene: Jesus can barely take more than a step or two at a time for the crowd pressing in to Him, people are shouting, and Jesus stops. He's not looking down at His feet, making sure He doesn't step on someone's cloak or any of the people falling before Him. He's looking up. Was He the first person to ever look up at Zaccheus?

And Jesus speaks. "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." The people are incensed! How could He eat with someone like that? You know what? I don't think it was as much about who Zaccheus was as it was about who they thought Jesus was. They'd heard so much about Him. They'd wanted to see Him and, as with any famous celeb, be seen by Him. What would it do for a Pharisee if Jesus honored him? What would it do for a paralytic if Jesus healed him? But He didn't. He chose a tiny, vile lackey of the unclean who oppressed them; and He looked up to him. Maybe Jesus wasn't as holy or respectable as they'd heard. And they threw the baby out with the bathwater. He didn't pick me, so how great can He be? 

Well, Jesus did pick me. But He hasn't always picked me first or picked me best-- at least, not the way I wanted it. Why couldn't I have been picked to shoulder the burden of a worldwide ministry, or a huge home where I could host "God things," or a small fortune with which I could bless others, or a family that serves God together, or...? Maybe you've thought some of those things. God doesn't waste anything, remember? Not a tragedy, not a valley, not a troubled past, not even an ordinary life. He has chosen you according to His purpose. What will He do with you? Only what you're willing to allow.

JOY: The Motivation in Marriage

Have you ever made this HUGE decision? You believe it was right, you feel it was right -- you might even know it was right, but at some point -- maybe even thirteen years or so into it -- the enormity of that decision hits you, and you think to yourself, "What have I done?!" That happened to me this morning. And the decision was my marriage. I say "my marriage" because I'm pretty sure Scott wasn't feeling that way. I'm pretty sure he was going about his day oblivious to the fact his wife was at home gasping for air under the weight of her decision. Okay, maybe it wasn't that dramatic, but the devotional series I've been doing on marriage had me really thinking about my role as his wife.

What do you think about when you open your Bible (or your Bible app -- biblegateway.com has a really good one, by the way) or begin your quiet time each day? If you're like me, you think about meeting your Father; you think about finding your spirit's Center or Fuel for the day ahead; you think about learning and growing into the servant God has called you to be; you think about faithfulness and obedience. All very good reasons; but as I pondered the question, I realized I don't spend a whole lot of time thinking about what my relationship with Jesus means to those with whom I live, particularly my husband. Am I spending time with my Savior that I might be a blessing to my husband? Is that not one of a wife's responsibilities? Think about marriage; think about the relationship it represents: the Church bride and the Christ groom. The bride should be a blessing to her groom. Her character should be such that she brings him joy and makes his labors light. And the bride should make the groom look good, right? Not that we are seeking the approval of men over God's approval, but if the Church acts like raving lunatics when trouble or persecution comes, what will people think about our Groom? As Scott's wife, I have a responsibility to draw positive attention his way. And the bride should honor the groom. This is where the rubber meets the road for me. Acting in such a way as to continually bring honor to my husband can be tough. I tend to "tell it like it is" when I am around those with whom I am most comfortable, especially those who tend to be tough with me. Scott's a big dude with a big presence. He can give me such a hard time all day long, but that's who he is. The Spirit is refining that area of his life and I can see it; but just as he feels free to be himself when he's with me, I let my hair down in his company as well. I don't always choose my words as carefully with him as I might with a friend I am trying to counsel. I don't always give him the benefit of the doubt as I might with a stranger who lets the door slam in my face. I don't always see him as the work in progress we all are, but hold him to the standard to which only Christ has the authority to hold him. I don't always esteem him as better than myself and, while I serve him and obey him, I don't always consider it my pleasure to do so. I don't always strive to do better and be better for anyone other than God and myself. 

And that's when I began to feel the weight of this decision. In those times when Scott is not feeling well or has suffered some sort of disappointment, it's easy for me to cherish the responsibility of being his wife; I see his need and I will move heaven and earth to help him meet it. But, in the everyday and the mundane, I barely give that responsibility another thought. I don't stop to think how important it is I guard my heart -- to bring glory to God, to be a better helpmeet to my husband, to keep myself from falling to temptation. I'm not overly purposeful about being generous -- it pleases God, it brings honor to my husband as the head of our household, it brings blessing to my life. 

Marriage is a great privilege, but it is a tremendous responsibility as well; one not to be taken lightly. This person who lives with us day in and day out is not a stranger but should be treated with as much and more respect as the police officer who stops you for speeding. This person who challenges the things we want and sometimes invades our space is not as commonplace as our favorite pair of sweats but should be as welcome and appreciated in our lives. As with any other endeavor, our motivation should be JOY - Jesus, Others, and then, You.

Love and Pain

One of the books I began reading during "August hiatus" was Stronger, by Brian "Head" Welch, a founding member of the band Korn. I love the way Head keeps it real in each devotion. I imagine his testimony as being similar to the Gentiles in Acts as they began to know Jesus as their Savior. They had some sinful behavior they needed to forego, as we all do, but they did not seek to "become Jewish." They were followers of Christ, and that is all they sought to be. Head has tattoos he doesn't attempt to hide beneath a suit. He uses all he has, his love for his fans, his creativity, and artistic talent to speak to them about Jesus. 

The "Day Three" devotional in his book speaks of pain. Genesis 6:6 says, "The Lord was grieved that He had made man on the earth, and His heart was filled with pain." Welch writes:

"Have you ever had your heart broken so bad that you wished you weren't alive to feel the pain? The only relief for that sort of piercing heartbreak comes when you're sleeping. When you wake up in the morning, you wonder if the horrible experience was all a nightmare, but when reality sets in, the agonizing pain slowly pours into your heart as you awake. If we, as human beings, can feel that much pain after our hearts are shattered into a million pieces, then I wonder what it feels like for God to have His heart crushed as it says in Genesis 6:6... I John 4 tells us that God is love. God is where love comes from and He is what love is all about. I can't even imagine what it would feel like for pure love to be 'filled with pain.'"

We've all known pain. In a devotion for another day, Head opines, "the second half of life is where most people face the most pain." I have to agree with him on that one. In my experience, some of the terrible decisions I made in the first part of life have returned in the form of consequences. Pain is bad, but knowing you gave it breath by your own willful rebellion adds a whole different dimension. As our children have grown and we have added their children and their relationships to the mix, as we have come into fellowship with more people, as we have changed careers and the internet has opened up connections across the globe, we have experienced pain not only of our own but of those we love. We have prayed for and cried for people we have never met; their circumstances or the distance that has separated us has been a source of tremendous pain. We have grieved the loss of some of those relationships, and that nagging question, why? fills us with sadness.

God created mankind and there was pain. As Welch says, the epicenter, the fount, the source, Love itself "filled with pain." Anyone who has ever experienced the kind of pain Welch talks about, the piercing heartbreak that abates only when one is asleep, instinctively guards against that sort of thing ever happening again. They put up walls, refuse to love again, harden their hearts against feeling anything. Not God. His pain at mankind's sin is beyond our imagination, but so is His love. He didn't recoil, He restored. He didn't turn His back, He bared His back to the brutality of Roman soldiers. He didn't protect His life, He laid it down. And He loves the way one would expect only Love to do.

See You in September

Scott and I spent last night listening to music and watching videos from the '70s and '80s. Listening to those songs brought back plenty of personal memories, but we reminisced, too, over events that dominated the news in those years: inflation and gas lines, American hostages in Iran, the Challenger and Chernobyl, Cabbage Patch Kids, Imelda Marcos' 3000 pairs of shoes... Life wasn't only disturbing back then, though; look at the past year or more. Quarantine, a hotly --and still-- contested election, riots, cancellations of people!, a shot (literally) of hope, and now that same shot, the very barrier against the virus that kept us all locked down for most of the year, is coming under scrutiny with regard to the current spread of the virus. Could it get any crazier? Personally, the last year has brought us some of the most wonderful memories. At the same time, we were deceived for months on end by people who claimed to be supporting us, had a considerable sum of money stolen from us by an unscrupulous attorney, suffered through a terrible tragedy, leaned more heavily into the Lord than we ever have, made career decisions and life decisions, and are experiencing one of the best-worst, richest-poorest seasons of our life. Bizarre affects us all, and drama never takes a vacation. As Scott and I revisited our teens and twenties well into the wee hours of the morning, we recalled the strange and the truly awful; they hadn't all been erased from our memories, but we saw them from a much different vantage point than we did back then. We went through them --without God in the earlier days, but with Him now. Praise God, He is never far from us!

A couple weeks ago, I felt God pressing me to do something. We put it off, rationalizing the evidence we could see, but wound up doing it anyway (A Strange Kind of Something and Something New). And now, I believe God is telling me to take some time off from Broken To Breathless-- just a month; I'll be back in September. From the moment I felt compelled to take a vacation, some things have given me pause: maybe I could just write one day a week, or maybe I could post articles from other blogs. How quickly we forget. I just learned this lesson! God and I had decided on a month off, and that's what it will be. I'll be catching up on some reading, working on the book that God has been telling me to write for the past several years, and listening to old music with my husband. 

Keep walking with the Lord. He will get us through. And I'll see you in September!