What’s your passion–interest–hobby–ministry?

Do it! Go for it! Love it! Perform with excellence! (I sure hope it doesn’t involve sin e.g. pornography. Yes, Virginia, even looking is participating. It is sin)

Jesus told us to occupy until He comes again.  But He needs you to know He wants to use your passions, interests, etc.  If your ministry is outreach, may your heart remain on fire.  If your heart leads you to study in the Word to uplift and instruct The Body, share with me.  The Body is composed of many members none of whom can perform well in all areas but can be excellent in one or a few — the heart and the liver function differently but both are necessary.

There are many things to do for mankind requiring different levels of character components. “Feed my sheep” but are we to feed them with the same food the same way over and over? Is variety a spice in this case?  For example, in the field of medicine, a researcher whose passion is analysis through a microscope likely makes a lousy pediatrician, an area that requires specific people skills.  However, they depend on each other to paint the portrait of excellent care for the patient.  The same is true in the church. Within the Body, there are those whose function(s) — foreign mission giving, the food line at the homeless shelter, sequestered studying or one that can be the most mis-interpretive of character, The Watchman, warning of Jesus’ return and the signs of His coming — are equally vital to the spread of the gospel.  That last one can really tick people off and produce the most vicious hateful flack of ginormous proportion even from within the Body. “You have no love!!”  Be strong! You may appear to lack the sweeter fruits of the Spirit but God knows your heart and motives.  Stay the course He’s called you to in the face of critics who don’t like to hear they’re in sin who must attack you to justify their actions and those on the inside who believe their ministries are more important or relevant than any and everyone else’s.

In the church body, in the church building, God uses the music program as a carrot to lure the unsaved — emotion is not a bad thing when God is using it.  When the visitors become Be-Backers and want to learn more, God uses the teachers who may or may not be able to carry a tune in the proverbial bucket yet their hearts burn for analysis of The Word to transfer Truth to power in those whose passion is to witness.

You get the picture? God can use you where you are. But, what if what you’re interested in, the thing that is your pastime pleasure, doesn’t appear to have anything to do with faith outreach or church involvement?  God can use that too.  I think of a conversation in the movie City Slickers.  They were sitting around the camp fire.  The men were talking baseball statistics.  The lone female couldn’t understand.  Her conversations were about relationships, what’s working, what’s not.  She asked how baseball stats could be so important that that’s all they talked about.  The response was from a man who had nothing in common with his father. The relationship was pain.  But they both liked baseball.  They had something that allowed conversation, a conduit for communication, their only link to each other.

One of my passions is my genealogy hobby.  If anyone wants to talk to me about it, I have information on the ancestors that is a testimony.  Their stories and circumstances are a testimony of my tree to  me. God can use them still, through me but only if I share.  In today’s world, online networking is hot e.g. Facebook.  You’re reading another form — blogging.  God can use it if your heart  burns for outreach.  It’s a colossal waste of time if it’s purely personal fluff as in “look at me, look what I did today.” May I suggest that after a weeks’ worth of commentary, your readers have a fair glimpse into your heart.

Matthew 28: 19-20, known as The Great Commission is stated in the KJV as “Go.”  The original language is more correctly translated as “As you go..” or “going.” This was such a relief for me.  The Bible college I went to in Minneapolis was primarily a missions training school.  I honestly felt that because I didn’t hear a voice saying “Go to Africa!!” I was an abysmal failure as a Christian. But when you know not every Christian is suited for foreign missions, and Jesus knew that, you can joyfully pursue what He want you to do where you are and let Him direct your steps, not necessarily trips to faraway continents.

As you go — to work, on the highway (don’t forget God’s a mind reader), in the church lobby, at the grocery store checkout lane, on Facebook, around the family holiday dinner table — make disciples, teaching His commandments according to Matthew 28: 19 and 20 all the way to the end of the age.

You will be persecuted by those to whom the Truth is offensive.  But Jesus chose the foolishness of preaching to draw men to Him. “In this world you will have trouble.” Yeah, no kidding.  Be strong.

Anybody is somebody who is serving in the house of God, working in the body of Christ.

I heard in passing and I stopped to listen

When you confess your sins as a forgiven Christian, the forgiveness is instant.  Forgive yourself and go on.  God does not remember sins that have been washed in the shed blood of the lamb. (John Hagee)   So why do I carry the rotting corpse of guilt? Because I feel like such an idiot for committing the stupidity in the first place.  The truth is that I really am an idiot when I know this stuff and insist on penance at which point I am moving into pride, my behavior declaring God’s plan of forgiveness on the cross wasn’t good enough.  That just gave me a headache. Forgive me Lord.

I heard in passing the TV set a good one from someone I hadn’t heard before, can’t remember his name but couldn’t drag myself away from the curling iron long enough to surf for a substitute so I half listened until he said something about salvation evolution. I stopped to listen.  He asked if I believed people were saved gradually or if each one of us needs to make a from-darkness-to-light decision.

Do I believe we grow into salvation or do we grow in faith from accepting salvation? What does the seed that is witnessed into my mind grow into? The seed of knowledge grows toward a decision, one that has to be made consciously.  I’ve said it before — does sitting in a garage long enough turn you into a car?  Salvation cannot be applied onto anyone like clothes or soap or duct tape.

At some point you turn from your wicked ways.  The point at which you have wickedness defined for you and have the consequences of wickedness clearly stated, if you don’t turn from sin, that’s when you decide to repent or not to repent, which is “turn.”  The One you turn to is not just critical, it’s the whole point as opposed to “turning over a new leaf” on New Year’s Day.

Maybe you can’t pin the sticker on the calendar.  Maybe one day you had an epiphany and acted on it in prayer without thunder. Maybe you were so close that the transition from pre-dawn to light wasn’t that long a ride.  But you did cross over.  Jesus is the source of the salvation.  The Word, the work of God’s Holy Spirit, and personal contact through prayer is the means by which we grow in faith and learn to walk deeper and deeper in Him.

You can attend church for years.  I heard sermons from womb to knees.  But Mom could not paint me with salvation, feed it to me or dress me in it.  All she could do was force me to be there and pray I listened.  I had to reach a point, an actual point in time, when I reached out and I received the gift.  I opened it.  I exercise it.  Me.  Knowledge may have soaked in —

I knew who Jesus was and all about Him but did not know Him until I decided to know Him.

He’s always there, does not go away, holds me, watches me, teaches and disciplines. He gives me the choice to stay or leave, to contact or not to contact Him. I grow when I choose contact, to stay.

The TV preacher asked me if I believed in evolutionary — gradual salvation.  No. I don’t. You’re dating or you’re married. You can even be engaged but you’re still not a bride until you’re a bride and you’re still not married until you take the vows. “I take Thee, Jesus … ” You’re pregnant or you’re not. This is the scariest verse in the Bible:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ Then will I tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'”                                       —- Matthew 7: 21-23, NIV.

“Knowing” in the original language means “intimacy.” “Never knew” means “You and I did not have an intimate relationship.”

Sooooo …… what am I saying here? That intimacy saves? Nope. That intimacy keeps us saved? In terms of my commitment to Him, not the other way around.  He hangs onto me as long as I want Him to. Growing in the relationship happens after the commitment, the point at which I am “saved.” It, by itself, does not save. Becoming intimate, remaining and becoming more intimate keeps me strong enough to walk away from sin and sinful decisions and makes me stronger.  I can also call this process sanctification. It is growing up, maturing, being able to eat meat instead of being limited to milk as Paul described it.

 

Summer of ’68

August 18, 1968. How Jesus and I met on a hot Illinois summer Sunday morning.

Can I borrow that?

I haven’t had a chance yet to look for Mom’s senior picture with the hair she hated then and throughout her life.  I liked it. For now, let’s let her sit back in her heavenly rocking chair – and if I’m sure of one thing, her mansion has a bunch of them — and let her think I won’t post it.
 
I bought a tape set, oops, CD set at the Joyce Meyer conference titled Burnt, but not Bitter.  There are hundreds to choose from.  No, there are about that many people crowding in front of them so I can’t shop at my leisure as if I am oh so important.  Correction, there are at least a hundred CD sets at the table and enough people to teach me a quick lesson on patience, something I needed this morning on the highway.
 
None of Joyce’s teachings are for the faint of heart.  Her humor draws you in.  She entertains. She speaks from experience. And she won’t let go of her point until it’s driven home.
 
On stage, each session, and on video before each session, Joyce and her ministry team inform the audience, for the benefit of those who reach their own verdict based on the fact that there was an investigation and audit, that for every dollar that walks in the door, 82 cents goes to world missions.  She feeds the poor, fully funds orphanages, and digs wells for villages that have no water sources.  82%.  Her personal earnings are from her books only.  She takes nothing from the ministry – zip, zero, nada – and of her book income, she gives into her own ministry 90% and lives quite satisfactorily on the remaining 10%.  Now. Are the criticisms and accusations answered?  Go to www.joycemeyer.org to see her financials all of which were submitted waaaay before the deadline.
 
Back to Burnt/Bitter.  It’s nothing like Neosporin.  This is not a salve.  Matter of fact, none of her teachings are a salve or ointment.  No “poor baby” messages from that mom.  It’s time for your vegetables and castor oil.  Nevertheless, I’ve been chuckling all the way through all 5 disks for two days now.  I can hardly wait until I can exchange it for another set with Marsha.  “You buy this and I’ll buy that and we’ll trade.”  Where are we, a restaurant? “Sounds good to me.”
 
But there could be a problem with trading with the church friend who invited me to join her at the conference.  At work today:
 
Terry: Where did you go this weekend?
Me:  Joyce Meyer conference in Winston-Salem.  I have a CD set.
Terry: Oh, is that the older woman who preaches? I want to listen to the CDs when you’re done.
Sandy: Who’s this?
Me:  Joyce Meyer.  I’m listening to her right now.
Sulane: Oh, I love her! Can I borrow these?
Phyllis: Are those Joyce tapes?  She was in Knoxville a couple of years ago.  Mind if I listen to them when you’re done?  See that wall with the yellow windows over there?  One of those girls in that area has Joyce tapes she passes around to quite a few around here.  You can trade with her.
 
There is now a sticky note with my name, extension, and cell phone number inside the case. I may have to place another order online or contact Marsha to borrow a set instead of trade if I plan on listening to any more any time soon. 
 
Hey!  I have cassette tape sets at home I haven’t listened to for a while.  Plus, this gives me an excuse to order the one on Eagles.
 
Y’know, I really hope it’s a long, long time before I get those CDs back.

Soul winning six ways from Sunday

Matthew 28:19. “Go then and make disciples of all the nations,..” Amplified version.

I am told by a source I trust that the original language is more accurately translated “as you go” giving a different slant to the missions statement.  “As you go” implies that we are all missionaries to neighbors, coworkers, any and all people we happen to encounter.  Packing and traveling to Africa or China, for example, is a matter of an individual’s calling through the Spirit, not a blanket command for everyone.  I used to feel like a failure on Missions Sunday in bible college because I didn’t hear a voice say “Go to Africa” Good Lord, that was the last thing I wanted to hear.

Included in “Go” are the circuit preachers in the wilderness, two of whom noted in my 200 year old bible, riding through Kentucky and Tennessee, tent evangelists, internet ministries, and TVangelists.  Evangelism is a calling, a duty, an opportunity, and requires a style.  Yes, style.  Different strokes for different folks.  The least appreciated of these is not the TVangelists although most of their critics seem to be Christians (shame on them), but the much maligned door to door variety.  Billy Graham didn’t knock on our door once.  Nor did I hear of him randomly marching up one side of the street and down the other, knocking on doors and delivering his powerful “Ye must be saved” (or else) message.  His genre was the stadium.  Nor do I recommend his type of message for the door to door people.

This morning’s Sunday class lesson touched on the system of presenting the gospel in love with all gentleness over time, making friends and allowing the listener to gradually inch closer according to his comfort level and curiousity.  A big factor — the factor — is whether or not the Spirit is drawing him or not when the street/door witness is just dying to drown him in Jesus.  If he’s not ready, back off.

Then there was Billy Sunday, your extraordinary in-the-face traveling preacher who had a few nights in a tent to get your attention and close the sale.  He did not go door to door shouting his message and waving his hands.  He let the curious and interested come to him.  Biiiiig difference.  His showmanship style was part of his mission, effective in his day.  You see, God has all sorts of Christians in all sorts of places to minister to whomever He is drawing to Himself in the manner that will convince him to accept the free gift of love through His Son, Jesus.  I get it.  I always did get it.  There’s more than one way to win a soul.

The following is my dad’s conversion experience.  His vision will follow in another post.

At the age of 18 yrs in the fall of 1925, during a Billy Sunday crusade, I made my public confession of, and my commitment to Our Lord Jesus Christ, by going forward and shaking hands with the Rev. Sunday, as was the way of confession and commitment at that time.  About a year or so later, at the age of nineteen years, I felt the urge to be baptised.  I turned to the Christian Church in Monmouth for baptism.  I was baptised by the minister of the church at that time, with Charles Britt assisting and in the presence of my uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. C. Ernest Parrish.  Having been given to understand that the Church was a New Testament Church, I acquired a pocket sized Red Letter New Testament and was very avid in study of the Word and in prayer.

I have established access to other cousins in the Rachel Cook lineage who have marvelous stories with details I didn’t have.  I saw that my 4-great grandfather Wm. Murphy planted churches one of which is down the road in Jonesborough, pastored churches, and preached on the road. His son John was a preacher, and John’s son, the reverend who moved the clan from Kentucky to Illinois.  He too, founded congregations where I grew up. I doubt he went door to door but I’ll bet his flock did, extending invitations to come and join.

If you check out some of the images from Billy’s meetings and the two sermons listed, you will get the very clear image that this guy wasn’t operating a Crystal Cathedral or a Joel Osteen service.  This guy was intent on presenting Jesus as a savior not a buddy.  This guy made it clear that there was indeed a hell, that it was hot, that we’re all sinners, that all sinners are headed there, and that Jesus was the loving and the ONLY escape plan.  On target!  To say he scared the hell out of them wasn’t his goal.  He was up there on the stage to do and say anything it took to scare them away from hell and into Jesus’ arms.

You see, there is a place for each and every tactic, every style.  Those who came to the tent meeting were volunteers.  (Ok, some of the kids were probably dragged.)  Not all accepted the message, but not one of those who rejected it was puzzled about hell and salvation when they left.  Later, in their homes, they had the time and hopefully the privacy to think.

If anyone takes the message from Matthew 28:19 door to door, the key words are gentleness, sweetness, kindness, brevity, and style.  When we went door to door in North Minneapolis in 1971, it was to identify ourselves, our purpose, and invite people to the new church in the neighborhood. On other occasions, we did the Salvation Army music on the street routine and passed out leaflets, witnessing to only those who wanted to talk.

There really is a place for everything and everything should be in its place.  There’s a place for frightening the snot out of people who need to be frightened and you need the Spirit’s leading to know who they are.  If they don’t know the consequences for rejecting Jesus, they literally don’t know half of the message.  For the most part, don’t throw it at them right away.

Where are you?  Where’s your mission field?  The neighborhood? The internet? Work? What’s the style necessary to reach those whom He is drawing and directing toward you? Let the Spirit tell you.

Veterans Day

vet·er·an      /ˈvɛtərən, ˈvɛtrən/ Pronunciation Key – Show Spelled Pronunciation[vet-er-uhn, ve-truhn] Pronunciation Key – Show IPA Pronunciation

–noun

1.	a person who has had long service or experience in an occupation, office, or the like: a veteran of the police force; a veteran of many sports competitions.

2.	a person who has served in a military force, esp. one who has fought in a war: a Vietnam veteran.

–adjective

3.	(of soldiers) having had service or experience in warfare: veteran troops.

4.	experienced through long service or practice; having served for a long period: a veteran member of Congress.

5.	of, pertaining to, or characteristic of veterans.

---

[Origin: 1495–1505; < L veterānus mature, experienced, equiv. to veter- (s. of vetus) old + -ānus -an]

I appreciate #2 of the definition above, pulled from dictionary.com, that illustrates a military veteran as a “Vietnam veteran.”  All too often our focus ends with a WWII veteran.  We’ve just about run out of WWI vets and the WWII vets, now called the Greatest Generation, are dying at the rate of about 1000 a day.  In the flurry to honor them while we still have them, we can lose sight of the men who fought in Korea because that was a police action headed up by the United Nations.  Our Viet Nam vets often take a back seat.  Those are the men who were spat on when they came home.  They are the ones who sometimes don’t tell people that they are veterans who were fighting to keep communism at bay and were trashed by a generation of college students whose motives are still under debate, many of whom themselves embraced Karl Marx’ communist socialist policies.  At least one of them is currently running for president.  Personally, I believe their politics were wrong then and they’re still wrong.  Enemies don’t stop fighting and back down because we yell “peace.”

Honey’s great-grandfather, George Wesley Brock, at the age of 16, volunteered to preserve the United part of USA in the War Between the States.  Geo.Wesley’s grandfather, also a George, fought in the War of 1812, the “second revolution” against Britan’s attempt to recapture us, was himself captured by Indians sympathetic to Britain and survived a gauntlet because he said, “I’m half Indian.”  My father wore the army uniform in WWII to defeat two nations who would destroy our freedoms.  His great, great grandfather, John Murphy, Sr, fought to create a free nation in the Revolutionary War at Valley Forge as did his father-in-law, William Cooke.

So, which veterans are we honoring and if you say “all” are you limiting the celebration to those who served in combat in WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, The Gulf War, and Iraq?  What about Bosnia? Afghanistan?  What about the desk jockeys, and those who put in duty in Germany in peacetime?   Anybody who’s worn the uniform, whether he or she is shooting a gun or working at the PX, signed a contract that committed them to following orders, giving up their right to free speech, and going wherever and whenever, even at the cost of their lives.

Honey enlisted in the Navy in 1968 while Viet Nam was still in full swing.  He signed the contract, put on the uniform and boarded ship.  He’s a veteran by definition #2.  This morning he had the privilege of honoring men and women in our congregation as well as veterans in general.  This is what he wrote:

Today on the Veterans Day we gather together around the Lord’s table to give a tribute to our forefathers who paved the way for the freedoms we so richly enjoy today.  But more importantly, we come here today to honor a savior who died for our eternal freedom.

Today, we salute the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn’t run out of fuel for their mission.

We remember the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.

We honor the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat, but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and then teaching them how to watch each others’ backs.

We salute the barroom loudmouth, dumber than a box of rocks, whose overgrown fratboy behavior is outweighed a hundred times by four hours of exquisite behavior near the 38th parallel.

We remember the parade riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.

We remember the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket–palsied now and aggravatingly slow–who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife was still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

We remember our Navy signalman who still holds close a tear stained picture of a best friend who lost his life in the line of duty.

Yes, we honor the ordinary, yet extraordinary human beings who offered some of life’s most vital years in the service of their country, and sacrificed all of their life’s ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

Most importantly, we honor and remember the greatest soldier of all, Jesus Christ our Lord, who came to earth to fight the Good Fight, Who took up the sword of righteousness on behalf of all mankind and became the greatest testimony this world has ever known for the greatest promise ever given.

Treasures

When I subscribed to newspapers, I would clip columns that struck my emotion d’jour.  I would pin some on the bulletin board on the end of the kitchen cabinet, the same bulletin board on which hung school art, snapshots, and the calendar marked with band concerts, church events, games, meetings and who was hosting which holiday.  Some of the clippings went straight to a file folder, some took the living room table tour ending in file 13 within a week.  A few were carried in the purse until purses were switched.  I still have a yellowed and frail clipping on Martha and Mary of Biblical fame with many, many stick-pin holes in it.

Today I called a cousin I hadn’t seen or talked to since ’93.  She is one of the officers of The Hoornstra Society.  Hoornstra is my mother’s mother’s maiden name.  I had an old copy of the ancestry and descendancy book and thought I might need an update.  After a long reminiscent catching up chat, she forwarded me to the president of the society to order an updated book.  After that getting-to-know-you conversation and where to send the check, I picked up where I left off with the Family Tree Maker training video. 

As I tucked the name and address of the lady with the book in the file, I noticed a red envelope labeled “clippings and funeral notices found in A.J.Brock’s bible.”  The second folded up clipping had nothing to do with family or genealogy in general.  It was an Erma Bombeck column I had clipped and carefully saved way back, who knows when.  How it got into the bible of Honey’s great-grandfather’s brother is anyone’s guess.  Had it not, it wouldn’t have survived all our moves. 

Erma impresses me again after all this time and I quote:  (Get a kleenex box.)

A vision of how a mother of handicapped is selected

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.

This year, nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children.  Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?

Somehow I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation.  As he observes, he instructs his angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

“Armstrong, Beth, son.  Patron saint, Matthew.

“Forrest, Marjorie, daughter, patron saint, Cecelia.

“Rudledge, Carrie, twins, patron saint–give her Gerard.  He’s used to profanity.”

Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles, “Giver her a handicapped child.”

The angel is curious. “Why this one? She’s so happy.”

“Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a handicapped child a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel.”

“But has she patience?” asks the angel.

“I don’t want her to have too much patience, or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she’ll handle it.

“I watched her today.  She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother.  You see, the child I’m going to give her has his own world.  She has to make it live in her world, and that’s not going to be easy.”

“But, Lord, I don’t think she even believes in You.”

God smiles.  “No matter.  I can fix that.  This one is perfect.  She has just enough selfishness.”

The angel gasps, “Selfishness? Is that a virtue?”

God nods.  “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally she’ll never survive.  Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect.  She doesn’t realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word.  She will never consider a step ordinary.  When her child says ‘Momma’ for the first time she will be present at a miracle and know it.  When she describes a tree or a sunset to her blind child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations.

“I will permit her to see clearly the things I see–ignorance, cruelty, prejudice-and allow her to rise above them.  She will never be alone.  I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side.”

“And what about her patron saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air.

God smiles.  “A mirror will suffice.”

A place for everything and everything in its place.

This one line homily has been brought to you by the same generation that preached “Cleanliness is next to godliness” until they believed it really was in the Bible. It’s not. If you find anything even close to it, keep it to yourself.

Big Brother

I’m not aware of any jealously on the part of the first grandson when the second grandson was brought into the house. Either the parents said the right things at the right time or the child just wasn’t the jealous type. He did need monitoring to prevent too much kissing and hugging for the newborn’s safety.

As I watched, I remembered the treatment my firstborn gave the younger sibling. At one point the 2 year old helper had dragged the baby out of the bassinet and was an inch away from dropping her to the floor.

Mary

Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you’ve delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy would give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when your kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

Oh Mary did you know—

The blind will see, the deaf will hear,the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb—.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you’re holding is the great–I— AM—.

Music by Buddy Greene
Lyrics by Mark Lowry

She was a an unwed teenage mother whose fiance, knowing the child wasn’t his, married her anyway amidst an unforgiving community with clear cut rules concerning what should have been done to her.

The traditional Jewish wedding of her day was a week long party.  When the groom’s father had the new room ready for the newlyweds, the groom knocked on her door and took her.  She was to be carried through the streets by her friends and family and so the festivities commenced.  Did Mary have to give up a traditional wedding or worse, did no one attend?

Put her away or stone her.  This pregnancy wasn’t imposed.  The angel asked her.  She said yes.

We know little else.  We can only speculate on her and Joseph’s relationship.  Was Joseph resentful?  Did he treat the boy Jesus too sternly?  How did they weather the glances and the whispers?  In Jesus’ adulthood, into His ministry, He was still referred to as “Mary’s son.”

And then, after doing their best, He claims to be the Son of God, no less.  If the initial angel appearance and one dream were their only signs, that and their faith was all they had to affirm their decision to marry and raise the boy together.  What I wouldn’t give for an angel appearance! In fact, I have had my belief in Jesus confirmed supernaturally more than once.  I can tell you for a fact that as I’ve proceeded from those special moments, the enemy is right there in my ear to tell me it was my imagination and I have to think, remember, and say, no, that was real.  How easy it would have been for Mary and Joseph to give up.

By the time Jesus’ ministry began, historians suggest Joseph had died.  Whether he died or slipped into the background, or simply left Mary, he isn’t mentioned again after the trip to Jerusalem when Jesus was twelve.  Joseph was no where to be seen when Jesus was on the cross.  Apparently none of Jesus’ siblings was willing to take Mary in. Was there family discord concerning Jesus and His claims of deity?  One of the 7 statements concerned the care of His mother.

Mary knew Who He was and what He had to do.  Scripture says she pondered in her heart the circumstances around Jesus birth.  Gnostic writings say that Jesus, as a young boy, would raise dead birds back to life.  True or false?  Who knows?  Does that fit your image of Jesus’ later ministry?  Maybe, if not resurrected wildlife, there were other undeniable signs that Mary knew about as He was growing up. Why else would she expect Jesus to “do something!” at the wedding in Cana?  She knew something others didn’t.  The unusual goodness of His behavior compared to her other “normal” little rowdies would tell it for me.

Those around Him called Him crazy.  His siblings called him crazy.  If Mary believed Jesus to be even delusional by calling Himself the Messiah, would she have stood by silently watching anyone torturing her misdirected son before her eyes?  She was helpless to stop it anyway, but silent? Just standing there?

Put yourself in her sandals.  Do you see yourself silent or begging for his life?  Do you see yourself standing or being held back as you are trying to claw your way toward him to protect him, screaming all the while? Do you see yourself back at the house, prostrate, hysterical, being held down, or on Golgotha, standing near Him, watching?  In Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ, we see Mary at the foot of the cross scooping rocks in her fist as if to defend or avenge.  But scripture says in John 19:26 that she was standing near with John, and I suggest John was literally holding her up.

Did she know that this baby she rocked in her arms was the Savior, the Messiah? That’s what the angel said.  Did she know that she was in need of saving and that His blood had to be shed for her too? Yes, maybe not that day, but soon after.

Simeon said to Mary in the temple in Luke 2:35 that a sword would pierce through her soul.

I honor Mary’s obedience, faithfulness, and courage in the face of constant adversity and the ultimate pain that only a mother would endure.  Though favored of all women, she didn’t have it soft.