What Will You Ask For?

Focal Passage: I Kings 3:5-12

I was in elementary school the first time I heard about King Midas. Mrs. Wallace, my third-grade teacher, introduced this piece of classical Greek literature to her class of farm kids.

If you recall the story, after extending kindness to one of Dionysus’ servants, the Greek god granted King Midas one wish.

Midas asked that everything he touched would turn to gold. It was a great wish as long as he touched a pile of stones or a palace wall. It was less desirable when he touched a rose or the turkey leg on his plate. It became a horrible curse when his daughter rushed to him in excitement and wrapped him in a hug. Just like the stones and the turkey leg, she, too, turned to gold.

While the story turned out okay in the end, Mrs. Wallace reminded us of the dangers of greed and pride. Then, as if we might find someone willing to grant us anything we wished, she told us to be careful what we ask for. She said it with such mystery in her voice, I don’t think I asked a question of any kind for the rest of that semester.

Midas wasn’t the only one to be granted a wish. It turns out that King Solomon faced a similar decision one night when God, the creator of the universe, came to him in a dream.

King Solomon spent the day offering sacrifices and incense in worship to God. In his exhaustion, he laid down to sleep. At some point in the night God spoke to him in a dream and asked that important question.

Look at I Kings 3:5.

Ask for whatever you want me to give you.

Solomon began with his heart in the right place. He responded to the blank check God offered to write by acknowledging that God had already done so much. He thought of God’s faithfulness and his promises to his father David. He thought about the joy of being David’s son and watching him serve as King of Israel.

Then Solomon got more personal with is gratitude that God had worked through circumstances to make Solomon king.

There is something innocent and intentional in his gratitude to God. Solomon recognizes he is where he is because God is faithful. That God, in his mercy and grace, did as he promised to David and to his people. By acknowledging God’s grace, Solomon expresses what is in his heart. Notice, though, that the grace Solomon senses is not the common grace God extends to all his creation. It is deeply personal.

Solomon, born to David and Bathsheba, was a child born of adultery, abuse of power and murder. Knowing how his life started, Solomon understands that his elevation as king is a clear act of God’s mercy and grace. Solomon knows where he is and who he is only because of God’s grace.

That’s when Solomon proved himself a wiser king than Midas. Look at I Kings 3:7-9. His thoughts express his gratitude.

Now, O Lord, my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number.

Solomon was given an opportunity of a lifetime. Knowing it was within God’s power to grant, Solomon could go full bore Midas, asking that anything he touched might turn to gold. He could ask for immortality. He could ask for great victories in every battle, building a reputation to be feared and a powerful empire that no one could conquer.

Instead, in a moment of clarity and self-awareness, Solomon shared his vulnerability. He humbled himself before God, acknowledging that the situation overwhelmed him. The burden of leading God’s people weighed heavy on his shoulders and his spirit. Solomon realized his youth and inexperience could be a problem. Setting aside the pride that often comes with kingship, he understood his need for guidance as he governed God’s people.

At that point Solomon gets around to answering God’s question.

So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours? (I Kings 3:9)

Solomon prays for wisdom and a listening heart. There isn’t a modicum of selfishness in the request. It’s not wisdom for wisdom’s sake. It’s not that he wants to be known as a wise king. His concern is for those he rules. That his own actions would reflect God’s will for Solomon and for God’s people.

When Solomon asks God for a discerning heart, he is asking for the ability to distinguish between good and evil, truth and error. To see what is helpful and not harmful. His request involves deep insight, moral sensitivity and spiritual wisdom. Rather than just knowing stuff, Solomon desires wisdom that transcends knowledge.

It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from God alone into a heart that is grateful, humble and focused on doing the will of God as he leads.

I studied this story recently as I prepared to teach my Bible Study class at South Main Baptist Church in Pasadena. Something about the passage caused it to keep resurfacing in my thoughts as if there might be something more I needed to learn. So, I spent some time looking again at the story.

The first thing that struck me this time was that God initiated the conversation during Solomon’s dream. Solomon had yet to voice his insecurities. Unsure if he had the ability to lead God’s people effectively, Solomon surely fretted over every decision. Doubting himself. Second guessing every call he made. Yet, he kept those thoughts to himself.

God, who certainly knew Solomon’s angst and fears, extended an invitation to the king he anointed. In essence, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

Think about that for a second in a broader context that encompasses you and me. God wants to give us what we need to be the person he called us to be. It’s his fervent desire. So much so that he stands ready to provide what we need even before we know to ask for it.

It’s as if he’s telling you and me. “I’m here. I’m ready to help. I sense your struggle. Tell me what you need from me.” I find that both stunning and almost unimaginable!

It’s not that God doesn’t know what we need and is just waiting for us enlighten him. It is that he’s wanting us to reflect honestly on who we are, where we are in life and what we need from God to become the person he wants and needs us to be.

So, the passage tells me that God, in his generosity and grace, approaches his people eager to give us what we need.

Jesus encouraged his disciples with a similar thought. Once, after his disciples were so moved by Jesus’ prayer, they asked him to teach them how to pray as he did. He gave them a example to follow and then he said something that echoes what God shared with Solomon.

So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. (Luke 9-10)

But, he didn’t stop there. Jesus, with, I suspect, a playful gleam in his eye and a giggle on his lips, went on to explain that God, like any good father, wants to say yes to our requests if he can.

Which of you fathers if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg will give him a scorpion. If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give the Holy Spirt to those who ask him! (Luke 11:11-13)

I don’t know whether the parallel is intentional, but it connected with me. See if this makes sense to you.

Jesus is promising a gift from God greater than anything else he could give us. “How much more will your father in heaven give the Holy Spirit.” That’s God in us. Always. His thoughts. His guidance. His counsel. His wisdom. Available to us if we only open our hearts and listen.

Now look at what God grants Solomon.

The Lord was pleased that Solomon had asked for this. God said to him, “Since you have asked for this and not for a long life or wealth for yourself, nor have asked for the death of your enemies, but for discernment in administering justice, I will do what you have asked. I will give you a wise and discerning heart so that there will never have been anyone like you, nor will there ever be.” (I Kings 3:10-12)

Is it a stretch to believe that the wisdom to discern and administer justice grows from the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives? The spirit of God within us who is our counselor enables us to listen with the ears of God, to act as his hands and feet, to discern right from wrong with the heart of God?

Is seems to me that when Solomon asks for a discerning heart, when he asks for wisdom, he’s asking for God’s spirit to guide his every thought and deed in ways that honor God. And God grants that request, not just to Solomon, but to us when the spirit comes upon us at the moment we give our lives to Christ.

It is this spirit that offers the discernment and wisdom we need to live the life to which he has called us. We just have to break down all our self-created barriers that keep us from accessing the spirit to the fullest.

That’s really the second truth revealed in this passage in I Kings. It goes back to what Mrs. Wallace said. Be careful what you ask for.

It’s Solomon’s response to the blank check he had been given that defines the rest of the story. In response to God’s invitation, Solomon demolished those barriers by sharing openly what was on his mind.

None of us want to be vulnerable, much less show that side of us to the world around us. The king was no different in that regard than each of us. In this critical moment with God’s invitation hanging in the air, Solomon opened his heart to God with the kind of deep humility that only the truly overwhelmed can know.

Look how Eugene Peterson says it in The Message.

And now here I am: God, my god, you have made me, your servant, ruler of the kingdom in place of David my father. I’m too young for this, a mere child! I don’t know the ropes, hardly know the ins and outs of this job. Yet, here I am, set down in the middle of the people you’ve chosen…

In that moment, we’ve invaded the privacy of his mind where Solomon is alone with his thoughts. We see him, at his most vulnerable: lost in his role and admitting to God that he is helpless on his own.

When given the chance to ask for anything, Solomon chose a listening heart. He chose discernment and wisdom. Even in his fragile state, Solomon realizes that his role in God’s kingdom is not about power and might, it is about serving. It’s about leading with love and justice.

Solomon’s humble heart reminds me that I don’t have to know everything. Even if it’s only in my quiet self, I can acknowledge my vulnerabilities and lay them before God, instead of pretending I have it all figured out.

All I need is the spirit’s indwelling presence that imbues me with a heart that listens and discerns truth. A heart dependent upon the wisdom of God available through the spirit’s counsel.

It’s something James, the half-brother of Christ, reminds us about at the beginning of his letter to believers.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. (James 1:5)

So, the creator of the universe, our father, extends us the same invitation that he extended to Solomon. “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

What will you tell him?

Thinking Points

When God tells you, “Ask for whatever you need me to give you?” what is the first thing that comes to your mind? How honest and vulnerable are you willing to be?

How can you cultivate a heart that seeks wisdom and discernment over personal gain or comfort?

In what areas of life do you need to invite God’s indwelling spirit to guide your thoughts and decisions more fully?

What barriers keep you from hearing the spirit’s wisdom and guidance in your daily life?

Discerning what is Good, Pleasing & Perfect

Background Passages: Romans 12:1-2; I Thessalonians 5:21-22; Romans 7:15-18: Philippians 1:9-10

While eating out after Sunday evening’s service, a friend of mine spilled a little salt on the table. He quickly took a pinch of it and threw it over his left shoulder, while mocking the age-old superstition. I gave that incident no thought until I saw another friend’s Facebook post this week that led with a picture of Di Vinci’s masterpiece The Last Supper.

Leonardo Di Vinci’s The Last Supper is among the most recognized paintings in history. I cannot imagine how many times I’ve viewed that image. Yet, the story posted on Facebook pointed out a small detail in the painting I never noticed. Near Judas’ right elbow on the table is a depiction of a spilled bottle of salt.

The Facebook story reported that spilling salt has been associated with bad luck for centuries, a sign that the person who spilled it was evil or intended evil upon another. Di Vinci took that small stroke of his brush to paint Judas with wicked intent. Now, I don’t know if that was the message Di Vinci intended or if he just wanted to add an element of realism to the scene. It does make an interesting story.

For my purposes, the salt is a sidebar. Here’s where I’m going with this. It amazes me how often we view something without really seeing it. I looked at The Last Supper hundreds of times and never noticed the salt shaker. Not once.

It happens all the time when studying scripture. I can read a passage over and over again and think I understand exactly what it means. I can read it one more time and find new meaning…a fresh gift of insight God prepared just for me. For this time in my life.

I found one of those special gifts this week. I supposed all of us have our “go to” verses. Scripture we return to time and time again to remind us of critical biblical truth we need to hear. I count among my favorite verses Romans 12:2.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”

It reminds me that the world’s ways are not God’s ways. That I am supposed to allow God to transform the way I think and, by extension, the things I do, to separate my thoughts and deeds from those of the world. To live distinctively as a follower of Christ. I’m not always successful at that. I suppose that’s why I have to keep returning to that passage.

When I thumbed across it again this week, my eyes locked on the remainder of the verse that I tend to gloss over. I know I’ve read that part of this verse at points in my life, but it never grabbed me like it did this week.

“…Then you will be able to discern what God’s will is—what is good and pleasing and perfect.”

I get it. Be transformed. Be changed at the deepest level of heart and mind. Allow the spirit of God to help you think differently about the way you see the world and your place in it. It follows on the heels of Paul’s admonition to present ourselves to God as a “living sacrifice.” But, it’s also a verse about using the mind and heart that God has changed to discern what is right for my life…what I can and must do that is good and pleasing and perfect in the sight of God.

The first part is hard enough. Paul acknowledged as much. In explaining our sinful nature, he admitted to the Romans his personal struggle with his choices. “…for what I want to do, I do not do, but what I hate, I do…For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.”

We are bombarded with options and opinions, most of which do not reflect the nature of God. We live our lives pressured by peers to satisfy our own desires. We spend an inordinate amount of effort qualifying our actions as if the end somehow justifies the means. Who can blame us when national leaders declare to us that “truth isn’t truth?”

How do we discover what is good and pleasing and perfect among the flood of opinions and options inundating our lives? How do we keep from pulling scripture out of context and using it to justify our actions? How do we discern God’s truth?

Let’s start by defining spiritual discernment. Spiritual discernment is the ability to distinguish divine truth from error and half-truth. Right from wrong. Real from fake. Good from bad. Best from better. It is our ability to separate the enticing from the edifying.

Sounds simple so far. Famed pastor Charles Spurgeon believed if one examined everything carefully, the right choice would be obvious. “If one should set a joint of meat on his table and it smells rather high, I would cut a slice and if I put one bite into my mouth. If I found it far gone, I should not find it necessary to eat the whole round of beef to test its sweetness.” One bite should be enough.

That may be true with many things. “Thou shalt not kill.” “Thou shalt not steal.” With other things, it is less obvious. We are pretty good about welcoming the fog that obscures the truth behind its mist. And, sin is pretty good about putting a positive spin on its message.

When the choices grow more complicated, Paul offers a suggestion. He called upon the people in Thessalonica to “Test everything. Retain what is good. Refrain from every kind of evil.” He’s not saying we should dip a toe into sin to measure its temperature. To just give sin a try and then we’ll know for sure. He’s saying to carefully examine what is before you before you dive in.

The Greek word translated “test” in this passage is the same word he uses in Romans for “discern.” Let’s explore that for a minute.

It is a word that speaks to ore that is cleansed by fire. The impurities removed so all that remains is pure, refined metal. The grammatical use of the word also speaks to a continuous process, suggesting that we should constantly pass everything we hear and read, every action we think about doing, through the purifying fire of all scripture to determine if those thoughts and deeds are consistent with biblical teaching. We keep examining those things until that which is being tested is proven to be genuine and trustworthy.

Once we know that which is being tested aligns with God’s word, it ought to make that thing a part of the pattern for our lives, tucked away in our hearts and applied constantly in the things we say and do. If it failed to pass the examination, set it aside as unworthy of our energy and effort.

Paul tells us that determining God’s will in life requires us to pre-program our minds with Scripture, to live in step with God’s spirit, to control and guide our steps and our thinking so that every critical decision in the face of temptation or every critical choice between what is good, better or best, proves our commitment to living a Christ-like life.

The inner voice of God’s spirit within helps in discerning all matters that impact our spiritual lives…separating what is from God from that which is not. This puts every a of aspect of life under the scrutiny.

Our choices.

Our conversation.

Our standard of living.

Our business.

Our entertainment.

Our friendships.

That which we do openly and that which we do behind closed doors.

Maybe Paul’s prayer to the Philippian church should be our own petition for clarity of choice and the courage of our convictions.

“And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern (test/examine) what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ.”

We are surrounded by the things of this world. We cannot remove ourselves from it, especially if we are to be God’s light within it.

Let’s open our hearts to his word and make it our prayer that God will grant us the wisdom to discern and discover all that is good and pleasing and perfect in his eyes.

Amen?

Amen!

 

How Deep Are Your Roots

parable-sower-seedBackground Passages: Matthew 13:1-23, Mark 4:1-20, Luke 8:1-15

“Like locusts,”
Peter marveled,
“descending on a field of grain.”
The disciple commented on the crowd
gathering for the Master’s teaching.
Another day.
Another multitude.

James.
A disciple of Christ.
The son of Alphaeus.
Not the fisherman.
Raised his head.
Glanced back at the mass of humanity
spreading out across the mountain.
Muttered his agreement.
“Give them credit,” said James.
“They’ve come a long way in this heat
just to hear his words of wisdom.”

James watched Jesus working his way
among the crowd.
So full of energy.
Eager to engage each person on a personal level.

Stretching almost as far as he could see,
hundreds of men, women and children
congregated on the dusty hillside.
Turned its landscape into a
blossoming field of flowing robes.
Stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the man who…
Worked miracles.
Fed thousands.
Healed the infirmed.
Spoke more clearly than any rabbi.

James shook his head in wonder.
Leaned hard against the prow of the boat.
He and Peter
pushed the small fishing vessel
into the warm waters of the Sea of Galilee.
Gave their Master a platform from which to speak.

The multitude settled at last to understand more about
the carpenter turned rabbi.
Many shouted out.
Sought answers to their most pressing questions.
“Who are you exactly?”
“Why are you here?”
“What must we do?”

Questions James had heard since the
Jewish leaders began their disinformation campaign
accusing Jesus of every type of heresy in the Law.

James watched.
Jesus waited
for the tide of questions to ebb.
Amid the silence of anticipation,
Jesus pointed to the distant hillside.
“See that farmer?”

The crowd turned to look.
James chuckled under his breath,
at the sound of rustling robes turning in unison.

The Farmer.
Stood straight against the weight of the
heavy seed bag tied around his waist.
Every two or three steps he stopped.
Dipped his hand bag.
With a casual and practiced flick of his wrist,
he cast seeds across his small plot of land.

“My work is much like his,” said Jesus,
“Sowing seeds of God’s truth to those who will hear.”
As the crowd turned back, he asked,
“Will you listen?”

“A farmer went out to sow his seed…”

James sat at Jesus’ feet as he always did.
Mesmerized
by every word.
Marveled
that the simplest illustration held such elaborate truth.
Awestruck that Jesus could pull a lesson of
immortal value from the
most mundane acts of life.

*

Sermon ended.
Service began.
Jesus and the disciples moved through the crowd.
Helping in any and every way they could.

James thought about the parable
throughout the day as he worked.
Unsettled.
Uncertain.
Uneasy.
He missed something.
He was sure of it.

At last,
the crowd dispersed.
Jesus sat around the campfire surrounded by
his most trusted followers.
Exhausted from the day’s ministry.
As was their habit,
they sat around the campfire…
Talking quietly.
Reflecting privately.
Discussing intimately.
Debating meaning and intent of the words they heard.

Jesus.
Sat against a fig tree.
Arms across his chest.
Head back.
Eyes closed.
Listening, but not looking.

James.
Shuffled from group to group.
Listened intently to the conversations.
Contributed little as he processed what he heard.
He found himself standing beside the tree where Jesus sat.
More nervous than usual when alone with Jesus.
Kicked the toe of his sandal against a root,
hoping that Jesus would notice his presence.

Finally, he cleared his voice.
“Jesus.
Are you awake?”

Jesus.
Didn’t move a muscle though
a rueful grin broke across his face.
One weary eye opened.
One eyebrow raised.
“I wish!” He groaned.
Glancing up at the young disciple,
“What do you need,
my friend?”
.
James looked sheepishly at the others around the fire,
feeling inside that they knew things he did not know.
“That parable you told today…
about the farmer…
What exactly did it mean?”

Jesus arched his back.
Pushed away from the trunk of the tree.
Grasp his knees and pulled them to his chest.
Speaking in a voice loud enough for all the disciples to hear,
“Among all men, you are fortunate.
The secrets of the Kingdom of God have been revealed to you.”
James chuckled again as the rustle of their robes
reminded him of the crowd on the hillside.

Closing his eyes as if thinking of the multitude,
Jesus shook his head.
“The others…the people…
I speak in parables to help them understand.
So they can see what they may not see.
Hear what they may not understand.”

He paused for a moment.
Searched their eyes.
Sensed their uncertainty.

“This is what the parable means…”

The explanation.
Lengthy and to the point.
The disciples listened.
Some nodded in agreement.
Some probed with further questions.
James sat silently.
Getting the point,
but still sensing a gap in his understanding.
Innate shyness prevented him from pushing for clarity.

Later.
Jesus leaned again,
alone against his tree.
The others congregated in small clusters around the camp.
Again in quiet conversation.

James.
Paced the edge of darkness.
Hands behind his back.
Deep in thought.
He found himself once again
standing beside the tree.
Silent.
Still.

Jesus again wearily opened one eye.
Raised one eyebrow.
Smiled slightly at the timid intrusion.
Spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice.
“Something bothering you, James?”

The young disciple
leaned against the tree.
Facing east to Jesus’ south.
Slid quietly to the ground,
letting the course bark scratch his back.
He settled in silence into a comfortable spot.

Always patient,
Jesus waited for his friend to speak.
After a moment, James said,
“I get most of it, I think.
You’re the farmer…at work in your world.
The seed…God’s truth. His word.
The different kinds of soil…hearers of His word.
Hard.
Rocky.
Thorny.
Fertile.”
James paused again,
unsure of his next thought.

James pressed Jesus for clearer understanding.
Deeper insight.
About the soil…the listeners.
“How can they hear the same word so differently?”

“What do you think?” Jesus asked.

“The hard soil.
On the surface, no pun intended,” he smiled.
“it seems to talk about the…
Determined opponent of God.
Disinterested in godly things.
Hard. Bitter. Beaten down by life.
Refusing to let any ounce of truth penetrate the surface.
Hardened to any possibility of faith.
Clearly, an unbeliever.”

“But, I think there’s more to it than that.”
Turning to Jesus he said,
“Isn’t it possible a person could be so wrapped up in doing good,
that he may no longer hear a new word from God?
So focused on his ministry that he misses other opportunities to serve?

Jesus.
Eyes still closed.
He said,
“True enough.
Look at the Pharisees.
So busy with ritual they never get to know God intimately.
So involved in “worship” they never practice what they preach.
Worship must be personal.
Must breech the hardness of our hearts
or it’s meaningless.”

Encouraged,
James pressed on.
“The soil on top of rocky ground…
Enough sustenance to sprout.
Not enough to grow.
Some listeners,
excited about the work of God,
try to live it daily.
Yet when crisis comes,
when they fall upon hard times,
they fall away.
Faith withers and dies.”

Jesus nodded.
“We must be grounded,
rooted in our faith,
if we are to withstand the difficulties
we will inevitably face.
Life is not easy.
A true life of faith even more difficult.
Setting our roots means we must be so grounded
in our study of God’s word
that we never lack for spiritual nourishment that sustains.”

James quietly quoted something Jesus said
in another time,
another place.
“If I say I love God and don’t evidence it in my life,
I’m a liar.”

Jesus laughed,
“You have been listening.”

The two men sat in silence for a while as James thought
deeply about what Jesus said.
The disciple took another deep breath.
“Let’s talk about the third soil…
Full of weeds and thorns.
Choking the life out of the good grain.
Bad attitudes and actions strangle life.
Good intentions get choked out by disbelief.”

James.
Energized.
Engaged.
Eager.
Sat cross legged facing Jesus.
Hands gesturing to punctuate his excitement.
“Lives get smothered by things that ultimately don’t matter.
We nit-pick each other over inconsequential things.
Kill our own spirit and the
spirits of those around us.”

Jesus.
Fully awake and animated
mirrored James’ posture.
Cross legged and leaning toward his friend.
He reached across the distance between them.
Slapped him on the knees.
“Now, you’re getting it!”

Jesus added,
“There is a tendency to lose the joy of salvation.
The dogs of life nip at our heels.
We let bias and prejudice get in the way of loving relationships.
Arguments over things…
great or small…
just don’t matter in the end.
It chokes our relationships.
Gets in the way of our ability to love one another.

Jesus’s eyes danced.
“Go on, James,” he urged,
“What about the good soil?”

James sat for a minute.
Stunned that he was enmeshed in this conversation.

“The good soil…
Fertile.
Rich.
Bountiful.

“Represents those of us who get it.
Those who understand what God desires of us.
Understand more clearly who you are.”
Those who take part in the harvest.
Bringing people to know you.
To accept your truth.

Jesus.
Shook his head.
“Think, James.
“It’s deeper than that. There’s more.
Keep digging.”

James found himself…
Prodded.
Probed.
Propelled beyond
convenience and conventional wisdom.
His mind raced.
Vaguely aware that others had gathered around.
Listening intently to the dialogue.

His finger punched in frustration at the ground beneath him.
“I don’t understand.
You’re not making sen…”
James stopped in mid-sentence.
Sat back.
Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
His mind processing a new thought.

Quietly.
Thinking aloud.

“The farmer broadcast his seed in the field.
The field…
The field…
It’s the same field…
All of the soils.
Hard packed.
Shallow.
Thorny.
Fertile.
They’re all in the same field!”

Jesus leaned in…
Broad smile on his face…

“Sooooo…”

James looked at Jesus.
Tears of understanding welled in his eyes.
“They’re all me.
Every soil is me.
It’s not about how the multitude responds to the gospel,
it’s about how I respond.

I can be at times too hard…
too busy even in service to be of service.
I can be shallow and artificial in faith…
fainting at the first sign of adversity.
I can be overly concerned with things
that don’t matter in God’s grand scheme.
Hypercritical of others.
Or,
I can be productive, fertile…
fully responsive to the will of God in my life.

Jesus looked at James.
Eyes sympathetic and understanding.
“Knowing our capacity for failure is the
first step in avoiding the pitfalls.
Like I said before,
‘All have sinned and fallen short of the
glory of God.”

James wiped away tears with the sleeve of his tunic.
Embarrassed by his display of emotion.

Jesus.
Grasp the hand of his disciple.
Firm and reassuring.
“Don’t worry about the tears, James.
You’re in the good soil now.
You’re just watering your roots.”

*

Growing Deep Roots

I’m not sure about you.
This parable speaks to my faith…
crisply and clearly.
Identifying my life, at best, as a
spasmodic attempt to respond to the call of God.

Any honest evaluation of my life shows that I am…

Sometimes…
self-absorbed.
Busy acting good, rather than doing good.

Sometimes…
false and artificial.
Exhibiting a show of faith, without the substance of faith.

Sometimes…
Nit-picky and hypocritical.
Judging harshly the speck of sawdust in the eyes of others,
while ignoring the plank in my own.

Sometimes…
fertile and productive.
Stretching my roots into the deep, loamy soil of God’s truth.
Fully responsive to his will.

My prayer.
For me.
For you.
That we find time to listen to the voice that tells us…
We’re missing something important in God’s word.
To find the courage to sit at the tree where Jesus sits,
asking for clarity and understanding.
To dig deeper into familiar scripture.
To sink our roots into the fertile soil of truth.

May our tears of understanding
water the roots of our faith.