On most Sundays, I publish the Sunday Lesson. They’re nothing more than an observation or an idea or a study I’m working on that has useful applications. I feel deeply blessed and deeply responsible to write this. I schedule the posts to publish at 1:35. If you miss one, let me know and I will email it to you. You can also sign up for notifications and will get an email anytime I post something. I’m up for all comments and try to respond to them all. Be forewarned that I reserve Sundays for my family. It’s a work in progress, but a goal we’re all growing into. So, if I don’t respond, I’m probably playing chess with my daughter or watching lousy TV with my wife. On an outstanding day, I might catch a couple innings of Braves baseball. With my wife, of course. It’s Sunday.
The crowds were wild. The time had finally come and the Messiah turned His face to Jerusalem, the City of God. Glory and wonder and plenty arrived. Surely He would collect an army and sac oppressors everywhere. Surely He would drape women in jewels and bless their wombs. Finally, the entire world from Rome to Babylon to Egypt would come under the rule of the G of Moses. The crowd shouted and clapped and threw their cloaks in the dirt to make a path for His parade.
Religious leaders – looking for the Messiah, too – shouted at him. “Teacher! Shut these people up, and quiet them down!”
The Messiah looked around and laughed. “If I tell them to be quiet now the very rocks and sand will start shouting.” Staring down the leaders now, He laughed again. “You quiet down!”
Everyone was happy. Everyone knew that what they expected was coming true. It was time. The time they had waited millenniums for.
But, no one got what they wanted.
It seems to be the way with G. We pray and hope and read and pound the podium that THUS SAITH THE WORD OF GOD! IT SHALL COME TO PASS! Then, our sister dies of COVID, or we get a letter from our mortgage company giving us thirty days to leave our home. In my wife’s case, she receives a phone call and six hours later, the surgeon comes into the waiting room to tell her the first test for success is that her husband lives 48 hours. In my case, I drive my wife to the hospital for cancer surgery. When he’s done, I meet with an upbeat surgeon.
It went great,” he says. “Better than expected.” I breathed out a heavy sigh.
“Looking at the final scans, though…” he says, not quite so upbeat now, “and I’m not sure we got it all.”
I wonder what he expected?
The Father has a plan and a time. Neither correlates with your plans or your timing. We should know this. G told Abraham that he and Sarah would have a child. They had a plan, too, and got tired of waiting. Moses climbed a mountain to meet G and met a bush instead. Jerusalem cheered the coming Messiah knowing that wealth and plenty and honor were coming with Him as if on a leash. Except it didn’t. Even today, with COVID, I hear Christians, good friends whom I love and respect, say, “We’re not worried! G takes care of His own!” Yet, every day, Christian people go bankrupt, die of COVID, or are hit by cars while riding bicycles. Aren’t they His own too?
The Take Home Message
I did medical research once, a long time ago, and we joked about human beings as nothing more than bags of wet proteins. No offense to proteins! Who are we to know what G wants or what G will do? Who are we to know G’s plans or His time? That the Son on Man deigned to visit humankind clothed as a human baby should be enough for us.
Amen. Selah. Have a wonderful Christmas.
By way of explanation, I label myself as an agnostic Christian. I attend a Southern Baptist church and am comfortable with Roman Catholic and Orthodox theology and all kinds of Protestant thought. For Bibles, I generally use the Jerusalem Bible, the English Standard Version, and the Amplified Bible. A favorite verse is Micah 6:8 where the prophet says:
G has already told you what is right and what to do: do what is right, love loyalty, and walk humbly with G.