J and D are very much alike. They are both passionate and strong-willed. They will both argue with anyone and everyone and mostly each other. J and D are very much different. J has a father. D’s father is in jail. J’s siblings all have the same mother and father, all living in the same house. D’s siblings all have different fathers, none of which are in the house. J’s passion is like a river of happiness in which anger occasionally surfaces. D’s passion is like a river of anger in which happiness occasionally surfaces.
J’s family and D’s family are very much alike. They both desperately need Jesus. J’s family and D’s family are very much different. J’s family has already met Jesus. D’s family has yet to meet Him.
J and D and T were playing basketball that night. J and D, as usual, were arguing. T was trying to be a peacemaker. She reluctantly stepped in to referee. After about 30 minutes of intervention, she felt some good progress had been made but she was exhausted. It was time for T to go home and seemed a good time to walk D back to his house. T left and D asked if dinner was almost ready. D was always asking for food. She has tended to assume he was just a kid trying to get something for nothing. On this occasion, though, something in her thought that maybe D really was hungry. Maybe he really hadn’t eaten since having a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Maybe she should give him something to eat of more substance than a cookie.
Everything in her wanted to walk D home and have a peaceful family meal. Everything in her wanted to feed D some dinner. She finally figured out a way she could do both. She decided to get some food and send it home with D. She left D on the porch and went in to get him some food to take home. But what if the food she sent home with him caused problems at home? So, she decided instead she would actually sit outside with him and let him eat there while she chatted with him -- to let him know she cared. But that seemed kind of…well, like she didn’t care that much. Finally, they all decided they would invite D in to eat with the family. They might have a peaceful dinner because J promised he would not argue with D.
She went out and asked D to come in. She stopped D and J in the living room, had them hold up their right hands and went through a ceremony in which they so solemnly promised not to argue during dinner, to eat the food they were given and not to complain. She, D and J sealed the promise with a high five and proceeded to hand washing and dinner.
Dinner was wonderful. They ate and enjoyed the food. They talked and enjoyed the conversation. Even D had a funny story to tell. After dinner, she said she would walk D home. That’s when it happened – the thing that caused her heart to both overflow with joy and break with sorrow. Her joy overflowed when D awkwardly threw his arms around her legs as if he didn’t really want to do it but was unable to contain himself. Her heart broke when D quietly called back to her husband, “Bye, dad” as she and D walked out the door.
How could she not return that hug? How could she possibly hold back the tears? What if she had not fed D dinner, thinking he was just trying to get something for nothing? What if she had sent dinner home with D, thinking their family time would be much more peaceful that way? What if she had just fed him on the porch, thinking she could show D love and concern from a safe distance? What if God had not pushed her through all her natural responses and into His supernatural response?
It doesn’t seem like much. Some refereeing, instruction, rules, and laughs. Some promises, dinner, stories and more laughs. But to D, it was special. It impacted his life that night.
It doesn’t seem like much. A spontaneous, awkward hug around the legs. A quiet, “Bye, dad.” But to them it was special. It impacted their lives that night.
It doesn’t seem like much. A strong-willed, often angry boy from a somewhat disadvantaged family meeting a strong-willed, often happy boy from a somewhat hesitant family. But to God it was special. It impacted eternity that night.
I wonder what it was like to be Mary Magdalene? She had been delivered of seven devils. She had witnessed many miracles. All of these displays of supernatural power were suddenly in question as she watched this same, heretofore powerful man, die --seemingly powerlessly -- at the hands of his enemies. What confusion must have filled her mind! She thought he was the Messiah, the promised King of the Jews. Now he was dead. She went to his tomb to anoint his body, only to find, the body was missing. What next? She hastened to tell Peter and John this news. They, too, went to the tomb, confirmed the body was missing and went home. But Mary didn’t move. Mary stood outside the tomb, crying. In this moment, perhaps the pinnacle of her confusion, she stood in the place she thought Jesus would be and cried. She cried for Jesus. She cried for what seemed to be her loss. She cried for her inability to complete the task that would bring closure to this loss. She cried in confusion. She stayed where she expected to find Jesus and cried. Then, Jesus came to her. She was the first to see him after his resurrection. Later, Mary would come to understand that Jesus was indeed the powerful Messiah she had always believed him to be. Later, the clouds of confusion would give way to more complete understanding that would light a new path for her life.
