DINNER WITH JESUS

What qualifies one to have dinner with a powerful and popular person? Is it prestige? Money? War hero? Sports champion? Entertainer? A political figure? Perhaps any or all who have one or more of these media loved positions of influence and VIP status can get you a seat at the President of the Country's table, or certainly will keep you from standing in line at any restaurant. But making it to some one's dinner as an invited guest is a special privilege not many get in their lifetime. The phrase, "it's not what you know, it's who you know" is now updated and upgraded to, "it's not what you know or who you know, but who knows you." In the business world it is an accepted practice that many deals get done on the golf course, and often over a meal. Who you eat with says a lot about you. There's something that qualifies people to take the time to sit down and share this personal and yet fulfilling occasion with another. Very few people pass up a prepared meal, and still fewer pass up an already paid for meal. If our table partners are people we like, our fellowship feast is more relaxing and more often than not more palatable. But what does it say about us when we openly eat with the "thems" of the world?  How much of our trustworthy stock goes down when our dinner companions don't measure up to the community approved "good and acceptable" standards? Ex cons, prostitutes, pimps and crooks.

Today, I reflect on these facts of a past season in my life: after nearly thirty years of being in ministry leadership as a pastor, teacher and administrator, I have concluded something about myself, at least temporarily. Reflecting back and seeing inclement weather in recent moments of leadership life: one of my children served time in a state prison; He ran away from home at sixteen; I was removed from an administrative position as a result of an investment project that didn't go well; After twenty eight years of marriage, I went through a “testing of my faith,” divorce, resulting in an untimely resignation from ministry. I had a little talk with myself and gave myself permission to share; that in 2010 I boldly declared that I was a living bonafide crook. A white collar con man. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!! TRUST ME, (OK you can't trust a crook), bear with me. Your jewelry, money, stereo, big screen TV, car, and women are all safe. I'm not in the business of ripping off stuff or people, although a seemingly life long investigation  by those who have declared me officially dead, are trying to prove otherwise. What I'm getting at is that in evaluating my ministry and life journey, I wish that I could have some decisions back. I wish that the appearance of evil, would have been more avoided. I wish that apologies would have been more timely. But the truth is it didn't go that way. Like a crook, it just seems like very few people remember anything good you've done. Thank God for the five people left in this world who don't mind eating with me still!! They are reflectors of Jesus.

"After this He went out and saw a man named Levi at His work collecting taxes. Jesus said, 'come along with me' and he did-- walked away from everything and went with Him. Levi gave a large dinner at his home for Jesus. Everybody was there, tax men and other disreputable characters as guests at the dinner. The Pharisees and their Religion Scholars came to His Disciples greatly offended.' What is He doing eating and drinking with crooks and sinners?' Jesus heard about it and spoke up. ' Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? I'm here inviting outsiders, not insiders -- an invitation to a changed life, changed inside and out'" Luke 5:27-32

It really disturbed the religious church goer, that those who did not know God were collecting taxes from them. This Roman rule was too much for the nation expecting the deliverance from economic and civil slavery by a Messiah. They were waiting and wanting to take over the world and put the Romans in their rightful place, under their feet!! So to pay taxes to this government just got under their skin. But what was more heinous and almost unforgivable was for a Jew to work for the Roman government as a tax collector!!! Treason and the utmost in betrayal was this employment seen among the chosen people of God. To have a key position and then help to advantage yourself financially was white collar con at its best. The self righteous Pharisees saw crooks. Jesus saw disciples.

It would have been easier to say that I'm a sinner saved by grace. That is the true but safe tag we give ourselves in the religious church going community. It keeps us tilted on the heaven side of the scale when we evaluate our works performance of the week. But how does one become a crook? Looking closer at Luke's narrative, we find that the crooks don't call themselves crooks. The Pharisees call them crooks. They are offended that those who they have placed in a lower spiritual position than themselves and only poison the church, are even at the dinner. They want to know why is Jesus eating with the very people they have been trying to keep out of the church, because by their measuring stick, these particular guest don't qualify to be near the front, or top of the ladder of respect and holiness. How dangerous for the church of God. If it's left up to those whose sins are greater but not seen, to label others who don't measure up as crooks, therefore disqualifying them for any hope of salvation, then God will not have a vibrant church to display the good news. Jesus' response is simply, those who need the doctor I'm here for, those who don't need one I can't help. The very ones pushed out are the very ones Jesus eats with.

While driving home one Saturday evening from a church softball game, I humbly sensed that in some way I was on my way to Levi's house. There were times past I've been on the Pharisee side, wondering how can we vote to keep such lowlife and mistake ridden people outside the walls of the church. Other times it felt like I was on the crook side of the table. I imagined a new assigned label, and wondered if  church was the right place to fellowship. But thank God for friends who continue to minister to my family and me during this estranged part of the ministry journey. I'm grateful for prayers and support. I'm grateful for your presence, and your boldness to break bread with this side of the threshold of the church. So what are the qualifications to get a dinner date with Jesus? According to the Pharisees it turns out to be quite simple after all. You have to be a sinner and or a crook.

TOUCHING UNTOUCHABLES

 
 I had never been on a plane so huge. My heart was racing with anticipation of touching soil I only read about, or heard missionaries testify of. Los Angeles Airport is considered one of the largest in the United States. Zimbabwe's runway would be like one of the 405 off ramps by comparison. I was being sent to the Mother of all lands, the Continent of Africa. I remember being so privileged and excited that when I exited the plane in Zimbabwe, I knelt down and kissed the ground. This was the place of my dreams. To travel to a far place and make a difference to people books, media, and tourists often painted as hopeless, and helpless. I was glad to arrive to do my best in turning someones life around. The next six weeks revealed a sealed weakness in my thinking about others and what the true definition of help really is. It challenged my understanding of Christianity and what a true follower of Christ does in the midst of people who apparently look for something deeper than what we "hand out," in an attempt to appease the guilty and listless spirit within a church goer who feels like it's them who need us. The life I helped to turn around was mine.

There were many stereotypical sites I prepared to see and take many pictures to present to an awaiting religious audience back home eager to see what freaky things accompanied this trip. The safaris were inspiring. Seeing animals that I grew up observing behind fences or in exhibits designed to make them feel in their natural habitat, was often times breath taking. Elephants, monkeys, giraffes, zebras, just cruising along; the way God made them to enjoy the earth. On one occasion my wife asked that the car be stopped, so she could get out and take a picture of a herd of zebra moving at a focused and yet hurried pace. When she got back in the car, it was noted that they probably sensed danger as in a lion or tiger looking for dinner, why they were moving at that pace. My wife responded," oh now you tell me!" We witnessed the massive breathtaking Victoria Falls, where the Zambezi river pours what appears to be 1000 feet below; the crash to earths' bottom so fierce that it shoots the water thousands of feet into the air. This site from a distance seems like a mushroom cloud. But when the water returns to the earth the midst is as heavy as rain, causing a rainforest around its perimeter. You need a raincoat and an umbrella to stay dry. Huge rocks standing with bold confidence upon tiny rocks intrigued me. The atmosphere allowed these settlements to remain in those positions hundreds of years; only the tourists become uneasy as pictures are taken of the comfort of the rock's positions without a hint of avalanch. These and many more are what bring crowds to see the adventures of those who travel to the motherland, causing an unspeakable awe to the order of a higher being at work. Then the test of the inner worth of humanity reveals itself. An untouchable appears without a thought of  a hand moving to capture on camera.

Africa is being stripped of its most valuable resource. Aids is taking the lives of many who have preserved the treasures of creation for centuries. And there are not many who would dare touch this epidemic or the people who suffer from it. One of my most challenging moments was in the baptismal pool in a church in downtown Bulawayo. Seventy nine people were lined up. These individuals had a change in their outlook on who they would have be Lord of their lives. As they were entering and leaving the pool with excitement of a new experience, I spotted him. Lesions covered his body, outbreaks in his skin were too many to count, but his eyes were lit up to get in that pool and bury the old life and start living the new life. He was counting those ahead of him. He wanted me to baptize him. I didn't want to touch him, but he wanted me to touch him. As a follower of Christ, I was now faced with getting out of the line. No gloves, no chlorine, no mask, no spray. Only the Holy Spirit now saying, you can't break his heart by not touching him. He enters the pool. I baptized him. He hugs me with a long and grateful hug. He dies a year later. My life has never been the same.

CALLED TO TOUCH

To make a difference and inspire change in this life means that a change must and will happen in you. When I arrived from that mission trip to the Motherland, after a powerful revelation that I really wanted to control who I helped, and deeper yet, who I touched, my eyes were now opened revealing an uncomfortable reality; how we have become comfortably programmed. The intense warning from a concerned mother who sees her innocent child headed to touch a person who is on society's "don't touch" list, is from a learned or programed experience that teaches something bad will transfer into you, or will happen to you if you pursue this mission. In some instances the mother's admonition is with merited wisdom, as this world has many dangers that go unnoticed by the weak and uninitiated. They do need protection from the predators and evil characters bent on destruction. However, there is to those who claim to be followers of Christ a constant friction between what is safe and what is not. A follower of Christ will face the borders of his/her comfort zone constantly with not just how to spread the gospel, but who do I physically touch as I present the good news? Can I teach, preach, sing, work in the church and get by with touching only those who pass my personal qualifications of "touchable"?

I've often thought about that young man in Africa, whose skin announced, "a contagious death awaits." As I look back, I wonder had I daunted latex gloves, and a mask; exercised other precautionary measures to reduce as much as possible the spread of a modern day leprosy, if much would have been said. Perhaps the locals would have understood this American not wanting to return home and contaminate citizens who only read of horrors overseas, but really never see a disastrous end to an otherwise fairly healthy human they know. Maybe. But what would he have felt like? Many church attendees have been on the other side. The side that senses a leprous view of you. It's inexpressible to your ears, but deafening to your spirit!

When you with excitement pay with hard earned money for items at the counter, and the cashier throws, slams on the counter, or gently places the change in your hands, making sure that skin doesn't touch, evidence of perhaps seminar training on how not to get "germs." Or is this because there is something about you they have learned, heard, or just plain been instructed, "these people you can't touch"? When your hand is greeted with another hand, and then as if the sting of an intruding, unwelcome insect has struck, they push, even throw your hand away while maintaining the most painful smile ever produced in their life, do you feel that you have "the disease?" These are momentary incidences that puts life in perspective that no matter how clean you think you are, how many times you use hand sanitizer, or how proud you are of your latest nail artistry, somebody is uncomfortable touching you, and it feels bad at that moment in time. But there is a deeper killer of the human spirit. The most damaging of all human acts is when the soul is untouched.

This blog has been named VIBRANT VILLAGE. It exists to simply reduce the world of mission and help to a village of our lives. The village that we are apart of can be our community, church, fraternity/sorority, our group of friends or even our own family. But we are apart of it, and we can't really leave it. The calling upon our lives is to bring life to our village. Our challenge is to look around and see who among us hasn't been touched, and then touch. Many cities are pictured as active; people constantly moving and on the go. The crowd is in focused motion headed somewhere. But among the throng are souls untouched. These people have made huge mistakes; others are secretly or have been publicly exposed that they are fighting a losing battle with an embarrassing disease; still others are deformed physically and wonder inside if that is why people treat them mean or just plain act as if they don't exist. Many are in the village and the atmosphere wreaks of an air in which they feel they don't fit in, nor is there any attempt to invite them in. They walk around going somewhere, but their soul is untouched. An untouched soul will soon die.

Luke 9:1,2,6 -- " Jesus called the twelve together and gave them power and authority over all daimons and to heal illnesses....

He sent them to speak publicly of the Kingdom of God.... they set out and went through the villages spreading the good news and healing in every place"

How many people have we seen that enter a hospital with an expectation that their situation will be turned around, and they will soon enjoy a renewed life, because that is the place where miracles happen. These centers of physical and emotional salvation have, in their given name and building, a proclamation to fix whatever problem one enters with. Many don't come out alive. But church? 

The church village should never produce an untouched soul. How many enter it because its symbol, name, and building represent hope and healing?

In his book, "Writing In The Sand", Thomas Moore points out in a new way of understanding the view of Jesus and His mission, "The good news is that we are creating a new world order in which the first task is to heal each other...."

Jesus similarly focuses on the sickness of soul that affects people individually and socially, physically and spiritually. This perception of sickness is central, and healing is His signature activity." p 59

The Vibrant Village should be one where people understand their mission is to set out looking for the hurting and dying soul, and touch it with a purpose and an expected result to heal.

You are called even in your marginalized position, to lift the spirit of another. When a community or church or any other social unit takes up the true mission of Jesus, and sets out to first heal, The village will never be the same.