Here’s mud in your eye

            The first thing he recognized in his entire life was the face of God.

The blind beggar only knew one way of life. He had no trade or skill, and no family except his parents, who hadn’t trained their son for a profession or showed any backbone in standing up for their son. He knew his way around Jerusalem through the texture of the walls facing the street, the cobblestone paving beneath his feet, and the sounds of the marketplace. His acquaintances were known by their voices.

The blind man sat on a woven mat with his hand out, wondering if anyone in the crowd would throw money in his lap. The center of the throng came closer to him, he could tell by the dust kicked up, the noise, and the excitement of the people. Then it stopped, and he was the center of attention. Either he was in for abuse as a non-working, unproductive leech on society, or he’d find a few shekels thrown his way.

Here were new voices: strong, self-assured, but with a country accent, not the smooth accent of urbane Jerusalem.

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

Oh, great, thought the beggar cynically. It was to be the judgment, not the sympathy and support. But the rabbi’s answer surprised him.

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him. As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

The speaker said he was light of the world. What was light? How did one distinguish darkness from light when darkness was all that was known?

He recoiled when he smelled and felt mud being placed on his eyelids. The voice spoke again, this time directed at the blind beggar. “Go wash in the pool of Siloam.” Instead of a handout of money, he got mud in his eyes!

With no explanation about the mud or what it signified, the blind man obeyed the voice. No questions. No arguments. No complications. Maybe it was the rabbi’s kindness and lack of condemnation for his poverty and disability. Maybe it was a hunch that something extraordinary might happen.

He shuffled down the tiled road leading from the Temple to the Siloam Pool, where pilgrims did ceremonial baths to prepare for acts of sacrifice or worship. Carefully, he felt his way down the stone steps to the water, and sat down on the lowest step, clothes and all, to rinse himself, and wash away the dried smear of mud on his eyes. And when he did, a burst of light blazed into his brain. Sunshine sparkled on the ripples in the pool, and he turned his wet hands this way and that, in complete shock.

Never having seen before, not knowing depth perception through sight, he felt his way back to where he’d left the rabbi, with hands and feet that told him the familiar paths and how many steps between the street corner and his beggar’s mat. He kept turning, round and round, touching things with his fingers, comparing the touch to what his eyes told him. He couldn’t get enough of this new world. So this was light!

His neighbors recognized him by his clothes, undoubtedly dusty and ragged, and he looked something like the dirty beggar they’d seen near the Temple every day for years. They weren’t all that impressed that the man could see for the first time in his life—they suspected he’d faked it all along to beg for handouts rather than learn a trade.

So they took the man to the priests at the Temple, who were going about their sanctified duties on the Sabbath. The priests asked when this alleged healing had taken place. Today, they heard. The Sabbath. Well, here was something to pin on the renegade rabbi: stirring up dust and spittle to make mud was work.  (Unlike this panel of inquisition meeting on the Sabbath, of course.)

When the Pharisees questioned the man, he told them the same story he’d given his neighbors, but this time he added, “He is a prophet.”

They called the man’s parents to verify that the sighted man was the same man as the blind beggar. The parents knew that if they acknowledged it was Jesus who had healed their son, they’d be put out of fellowship, flogged, and shunned by their synagogue and their community. So they tossed responsibility back to their son. “Ask him. He is of age, he will speak for himself.”

And he did. The leaders insisted that he give the glory and credit for the miracle to God, not to Jesus, for Jesus must be a sinner for breaking the Sabbath by working. The man’s eyes were still open wide, drinking in his surroundings and the jealous, accusatory faces now confronting him. So this was the face that went along with a suspicious voice. But the new bright eyes opened a little wider. “Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know. One thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see!”

The priests knew their theology and their denominational doctrines, but the now-sighted man had personally experienced salvation from an incurable, hopeless condition. Now his experience consolidated. He first called Jesus a man. Then a prophet. Now he testified that Jesus was not a sinner, but from God.

This infuriated the leaders. They beat him, and threw him out of fellowship and any hope of salvation as they understood it. They pronounced him a non-person, and shunned him.

But Jesus hadn’t finished with the man. He’d initiated the encounter the man hadn’t asked for, and when he heard that the man had been excommunicated, Jesus sought him out. “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” he asked.

“Who is he, sir?” the beggar asked. “Tell me so that I may believe in him.” He still saw with his hands and ears, not his eyes. Who was this person with a kind voice, and a face to match?

Jesus replied with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, “You have now seen him, in fact, he is the one speaking with you.” Jesus identified himself by voice, in the most familiar and comfortable way the man knew.

At that moment, the beggar’s healing was complete. He blinked. He had spiritual eyes to see, with no magnifiers, no filters, no preconceived notions. Jesus instilled trust in him. He answered the rabbi, “Lord, I believe,” and he fell at Jesus’ feet and kissed them in an act of worship. “For you have delivered my soul from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life.” Psalm 56:13. 

Read the Bible story in John 9. 

This article by Christy K. Robinson appeared in the Loma Linda Campus Hill Communique, February 1999.  

Eternal life and Hanukkah

At that time the Feast of Dedication took place at Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the colonnade of Solomon. John 10:22-23 NASB

There is a festival of lights that pierces the long nights of winter, and it’s been celebrated for more than 2,000 years. The festival recalls the 168-165 BC Maccabees’ revolt against the assimilation of Hellenistic Jews and oppression by the Syrian Greeks who had desecrated the Jerusalem Temple. When the Maccabean Jews reclaimed the Temple, there was only one day’s measure of consecrated oil to burn in the large menorah. Because of their prayer and sincere intention to cleanse God’s sanctuary, He kept the lamp burning for eight days, until more olive oil could be obtained and ritually purified.

The Hebrew word Hanukkah means “dedication.” Jews and Christians believe that this dedication and purification of the Temple was a fulfillment of Daniel’s prophecy of the desecration and cleansing of the sanctuary. Today’s Hanukkah customs include gift-giving and family celebrations. Many holiday foods are fried to commemorate the miracle of the oil.

Jesus celebrated Hanukkah! John 10:22-23 NASB says that Jesus was at the Temple during the festival of dedication—Hanukkah. Jesus used this Hanukkah celebration to compare the miracle of extending the life of consecrated oil in a lamp, and the heart consecrated to Him. God is all-powerful to grant eternal life or measureless oil. He’s more interested in your heart than He is in ceremonies or the accoutrements of worship.

The Jews then gathered around Him, and were saying to Him, "How long will You keep us in suspense? If You are the Christ, tell us plainly." Jesus answered them, "I told you, and you do not believe; the works that I do in My Father's name, these testify of Me. But you do not believe because you are not of My sheep. My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand. I and the Father are one." John 10:24-30 NASB

Eternal life which no one can snatch from God’s nail-scarred hand. He extends His hand to you right now, just as you are. Accept your gift!

The Vernal Equinox

Listen, Heavens, I have something to tell you. Attention, Earth, I’ve got a mouth full of words. My teaching, let it fall like a gentle rain, my words arrive like morning dew, Like a sprinkling rain on new grass, like spring showers on the garden. For it’s GOD’s Name I’m preaching—respond to the greatness of our God! Deuteronomy 32:1-3 MSG

Today is the first day of spring—on the calendar. Sometime yesterday or today, the Sun stood over our equator, and day and night are about equal in length all over the world. If you live in a southern clime, it’s been spring for weeks already, when your African daisies, iris, desert poppies, and ranunculas were at optimum bloom. If you live in northern areas, as my grandparents did, today is a day of rejoicing that the snow and ice will soon recede.

Astronomers built monuments to mark this date: the Sphinx, Stonehenge, and innumerable temples. They held fertility rites, and rejoiced that their crops would soon be producing fresh food. Jews mark Passover at the first full moon after the equinox, and Christians celebrate Easter on the first Sunday after Passover. It’s no accident that sunrise ceremonies, rabbits, eggs, and the fertility goddess, Ishtar/Ashtoreth [>“Easter”], are connected to the Christian celebration of Jesus’ resurrection from the grave. But don’t let avoiding the pagan rituals stop you thanking and celebrating Jesus for His sacrifice and resurrection!

God put our earth on a schedule marked by the relational movements of sun, moon, planets, and stars. He set feasts, celebrations, and rest days by the astronomical calendar. Where we stand in relation to sunlight influences our food crops, our health, even our skin color. In the 21st century, we are privileged to have not only the Book of Nature to teach us of God’s love and care for us, but the Bible of His redemptive works and character, and the cumulative research and wisdom of His servants, ministers, and teachers. Rejoice in the newness of the season, and remember the Creator all the time.

Look around you: Winter is over; the winter rains are over, gone! Spring flowers are in blossom all over. The whole world's a choir—and singing! Spring warblers are filling the forest with sweet arpeggios. Lilacs are exuberantly purple and perfumed, and cherry trees fragrant with blossoms. Song of Songs 2:10 MSG

December 2009 word cloud

Unto Us is Given

To us a child is born, to us a son is given. Isaiah 9:6 NIV

I wanted to be a married mother of children. I planned early to be a piano teacher, so that I could be a work-at-home mom. I saved my journals, photos, and favorite toys as a heritage for my children. I worked with my mother on our family genealogy.

The hundreds of children I taught for fifteen years, both one-on-one, and in classes, are my kids, minus the sleepless nights and diaper duty. It’s true that I’m very proud of the lasting effect I’ve had on their lives and of their progress as adults and musicians. I still get invited to their weddings and grand occasions. They send Christmas letters and pictures of their babies. Through a Christian agency, I sponsor young girls in Indonesia and Uganda. But face it, at the end of the day, students and sponsored children are not my children.

But just as Jesus came to be my Savior and my Brother, and introduce me to our Father, He is Emmanuel, God-With-Us. He gives me membership by birth and by adoption into the family of God. His incarnation means that He is also my Son, my Child, and my heritage. I can share in the promise He gave us in Scripture, that “to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6 NIV

At my church, the pastors are inclusive of childless women, and call us “Mothers in Israel.” They recognize the influence and ministry we have in counseling, teaching, and befriending children who think their own parents are members of any species but human!

As Christian friends point out, in the New Earth, I may be a mother at last. The Lord comforts me with the promises that I will have sons and daughters (Isaiah 49:21-22), and that I have a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

And you'll say to yourself,

'Where on earth did these children come from?

I lost everything, had nothing, was exiled and penniless.

So who reared these children?

How did these children get here?'"



The Master, God, says: "Look! I signal to the nations,

I raise my flag to summon the people.

Here they'll come: women carrying your little boys in their arms,

men carrying your little girls on their shoulders.

And every time I sing, in Handel’s "Messiah," the chorus “For Unto Us a Child is Born,” I get teary, but with joy. I do have a Son, and He can’t wait to come back to fetch me.

God-With-Us. Always!

The Word became a human being and lived here with us. John 1:14 CEV

Christmas is the celebration of God-With-Us. In ancient religious systems, the gods were localized to certain places or their spirits were confined to a territory or container such as a wooden idol or a stone shrine. When people traveled or emigrated, they worshiped specific gods in specific places, or they took their idols with them (Genesis 31). The gods were capricious, vindictive, killed each other in power struggles, cheated on their spouses, and accepted human sacrifices—even infants.

So when, on the exodus from Egypt, the God of Hosts traveled with the Israelites, that was remarkable! A first! Here was a God who was personal; involved; protective; nourishing; healing; compassionate; Who fought battles and resolved conflict; who designed and implemented holidays, festivals and rest days for the former slaves; and who cared so much for their comfort that He shaded them from desert sun by day and warmed and lit the night for them. Unlike the gods who wreaked vengeance upon any whim, this God demonstrated that He was a forgiving God. He promised a present and future of blessings if they remained in His tender care.

Generations later, when the children had rebelled and forgotten, God repeated His plan for reconciliation. To His people in war and exile of their own making, and subject to the “gods” of their exile, He spoke: “Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel [God-With-Us].” Isaiah 7:14 NKJV

Wherever God’s people were or are, He is God-With-Us. “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” (Matthew 28:20 KJV) We can’t leave Him behind. He won’t abandon us when our closest companions do. And He’s not done with us in this short life span and at the end of this old world. He promises everlasting life to His children, and His presence continues forever!

Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. Revelation 21:3 NIV

Come. Sit. Stay. Stand. Shake hands.Fetch. Play dead.(Stuff you do at church)

You might think I’m continuing the saga of dog behavior. But last month’s message was actually about God’s unfathomable love for us. And this one isn’t about dogs at all.

I grew up in a church-involved family. When I was little, our congregation met in the Christian school’s gymnasium, and we sat on taupe metal folding chairs. My brother and I could not talk or fidget. Those services seemed to take hours, considering our stubby little legs were dangling above the floor. The services seemed more interesting after I was elected a church pianist at age 10, because I was actively involved instead of a spectator.

Our web site coordinator, Laura, said that the last time she sat in the church transept (the families-with-fidgety-kids section), her five-year-old and a little friend, instead of going on a sanctioned mission to help with the offering collection or to listen to a story, actually ran downstairs to play tag. Laura figuratively collared and leashed them, and walked the naughty puppies back upstairs to obedience class.

Sometimes church attendance is like an obedience class. We learn the rules, like where not to be seen doing bad things like chewing on the pew (or, um, a church member). We learned to come every week on time, bathed and brushed. To sit. To stay and not fidget. To fetch an offering check to the deacon. To shake hands at the greeting time. To howl on command during the music. To play dead during the sermon—oops, not during the sermon, but certainly on Tuesday night, when someone wants help at a committee meeting.

Is any of that “proper” behavior meaningful to the Lord? Is that what He wants: churchy acts? We’ve kept the commandments and lived morally pure and physically healthy, without even a traffic violation. We’ve volunteered for the church in many roles, attended every meeting through the week, contributed offerings and service year after year. We’ve got catechismic responses, when the doctrines are discussed. We’re pretty good then, right? Exceptionally good, compared to many folks that spring to mind.

When the rich young man (Matthew 19) came to Jesus and said that he’d kept all the commandments since his youth, and asked what more needed to be done for salvation, Jesus commended him, but said to go and sell his possessions to benefit the poor, and then come and follow Jesus. So was salvation earned by behaving well plus helping the poor? Or was Jesus saying to throw—even waste!—every self-saving act and self-preserving resource to the winds, and fall at His feet in utter dependence on His sovereign mercy?

Being “good” without divinely-inspired love is unnecessary noise (1 Corinthians 13). All my “righteousness,” because it is of my own devising, is meaningless. It’s worse than that, really, because I’m so blinded by my own lack of “badness” and so full of pride in my respectability and all the points I’ve won, that I can’t see how truly arrogant and needy I am. Jesus told a parable of a man who accumulated much wealth, but when the man congratulated himself, there was no one to listen. Family and friends had been discarded or tossed away.

Being good is not the opposite of being bad. On a bar chart, you’d put badness at the bottom and paint it black; and moral, respectable behavior fractionally above it, painted dark gray. But where’s the pure white marker, the divine nature? It’s off the scale. Won’t fit on the paper. Because that goodness is nothing we can work for or even aspire to on our own. Only God is good. Only God gives the “goodness” that counts. When He creates a new heart within us (Psalm 51), He pronounces it “Good,” in the same way that He did of all His work at the Creation. That is grace.

To “sit pretty” in church or live a moral, respectable life is only a false sacrifice. “Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” 1 Samuel 15:22 KJV.

What does God require of us? To obey His law of agape love for God and man, certainly. “ Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” Deuteronomy 6:4-5 NIV. To be like Him: humble, merciful, generous in giving and forgiving, loving, compassionate (Micah 6:8). To reflect His light not only to those around us, but even to our own worst critics—ourselves. To worship Him not in the way we think it ought to be, in a “worship service” of tasteful music and an educational sermon, but the way He modeled: in loving service to His people—all the people He died for, even the ones we don’t approve of.

What are you doing at church? Sitting pretty, or helping the Shepherd round up those strays?