You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Didn’t Jesus want breakfast in bed every now and then? Oh wait, “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Okay, then how about dinner? We know he was not averse to attending dinner parties, and at least twice he allowed women to anoint his feet, be it with ointment or tears. So he was willing to be served on occasion. Yet here he says, “…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.”
Okay, I’m being overly literal. Of course, Jesus received service as well as gave it. But he was a net giver – it’s hard to top giving your life. And he wanted his followers to get it through their heads and hearts that their priority was to serve others, often without reward, possibly at the cost of their lives. He even washed their feet to teach them kinetically what perhaps they couldn’t fully grasp from his words – that love needs to be embodied in order to be received. Afterward, he told them, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”
Serving others, especially those who cannot repay you, is embedded in the Christian life. As followers of Christ, we are called to be net givers, even if some people to whom we give are net takers. At the same time, serving and being served need to be in some kind of balance. If we are never willing to receive service, we can find ourselves giving from a place of pride rather than humility. As most people will tell you on Maundy Thursday, it’s a lot harder to accept someone else washing your feet than it is to wash theirs.
What does a community look like in which everyone believes they have come not to be served but to serve? At its best, it looks like a community of mutual caring and love, in which people are always looking around to see who needs to be served. Then everyone is at some point the recipient of another’s care, and everyone is a giver of service.
We have to offer service without thought to whether or not someone will care for us – but if we are never on the receiving end, that can be a sign that we are operating too much in isolation. Do a little assessment today – are you a net giver or net receiver in your life right now? How might Jesus invite you to address any imbalance?
One way is to ask him to lead us each day in the service we offer. The Son of Man is still in the business of serving, but now we are his hands, feet, voice and love. As we offer service with his Spirit in us, we’ll find we are not drained, but actually served ourselves.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label service. Show all posts
Showing posts with label service. Show all posts
10-16-24 - Servant of All
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Pulling a power play rarely endears one to one’s colleagues, whether in an office, a kitchen, a classroom or a family. James and John’s attempt to secure places of honor next to Jesus in the glorious future soon got back to their fellow disciples. They were not pleased. When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”
This brouhaha gave Jesus a teachable moment, a chance to convey to his thick-headed disciples yet again the nature of the leadership to which they were called. This was not to be the leadership of corner offices and grand titles, of setting broad visions or managing underlings. This was to be the leadership of humble service. They were to excel in serving each other and the people around them. They were to be first in serving as slaves.
The language of slavery pervades the New Testament, reflecting a time when people, even godly folk, accepted it as a way of the world. (Enslavement is probably no less pervasive in our day; we just use words like trafficking and condemn it even as we tolerate it.) Here, and elsewhere, Jesus uses that imagery, commending the status of those who have no status.
This message is counter-cultural in any age. We don’t all want to be leaders, but few people actually want to be servants, doing the scut work. Those who excel at giving humbly and sacrificially, working in the least desirable places, like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, often draw attention and respect but few imitators. Yet she did it, she said, because she encountered Christ in the lost and the least. And that is where he said he was to be found, in the hungry, naked and sick, the prisoner and the refugee.
What forms of “lowly” service are part of your life and ministry? It might be caring for an aging relative; it might be volunteering among people who live on the streets, or in a nursing home. Where do you find God in that offering?
If we truly want to be close to Christ, we may want to spend less time on our knees in prayer, and more on our knees cleaning floors and tending the ragged. Of course, that’s a false dichotomy – we are called to do both, and are blessed in both. The common denominator is the kneeling.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Pulling a power play rarely endears one to one’s colleagues, whether in an office, a kitchen, a classroom or a family. James and John’s attempt to secure places of honor next to Jesus in the glorious future soon got back to their fellow disciples. They were not pleased. When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”
This brouhaha gave Jesus a teachable moment, a chance to convey to his thick-headed disciples yet again the nature of the leadership to which they were called. This was not to be the leadership of corner offices and grand titles, of setting broad visions or managing underlings. This was to be the leadership of humble service. They were to excel in serving each other and the people around them. They were to be first in serving as slaves.
The language of slavery pervades the New Testament, reflecting a time when people, even godly folk, accepted it as a way of the world. (Enslavement is probably no less pervasive in our day; we just use words like trafficking and condemn it even as we tolerate it.) Here, and elsewhere, Jesus uses that imagery, commending the status of those who have no status.
This message is counter-cultural in any age. We don’t all want to be leaders, but few people actually want to be servants, doing the scut work. Those who excel at giving humbly and sacrificially, working in the least desirable places, like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, often draw attention and respect but few imitators. Yet she did it, she said, because she encountered Christ in the lost and the least. And that is where he said he was to be found, in the hungry, naked and sick, the prisoner and the refugee.
What forms of “lowly” service are part of your life and ministry? It might be caring for an aging relative; it might be volunteering among people who live on the streets, or in a nursing home. Where do you find God in that offering?
If we truly want to be close to Christ, we may want to spend less time on our knees in prayer, and more on our knees cleaning floors and tending the ragged. Of course, that’s a false dichotomy – we are called to do both, and are blessed in both. The common denominator is the kneeling.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
9-18-24 - Doormats - or Doorways?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We all know people like this – and some of us have been people like this. People who jump up to fetch anything anyone might need, who are always asking, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?,” who put aside their lives and careers to care for children or infirm parents, who show up at events even when they’re tired. As a culture, we’re ambivalent about such folks – sometimes we say, “What a saint!” and other times, “How codependent is she!”
Some of Jesus' teaching sounds like we are to be holy doormats, laying aside our own agendas, never seeking to be in charge, always serving. For instance, when he heard his disciples arguing about who was the greatest, He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Does the virtue of Christian humility demand that we sacrifice our dreams and passions? Or does being the servant of all rather require that we be true to who God made us to be? Think about it: we cannot empty ourselves if we are not full of ourselves.
Our culture defines being “full of oneself” as conceited, self-promoting. But that way of being comes from a place of insecurity, a heart that is empty, a self that is not quite full. A healthy person knows who she or he is, faults and blind spots, strengths and gifts. Only as we truly own the fullness of who God made us to be can we empty ourselves for the sake of God’s mission. After all, Jesus did not pour himself out from stocks that were running low; he poured himself out from the fullness of his humanity and divinity.
If we want to excel as disciples of Jesus Christ, it is our calling to serve the world in his name. How does serving others sit with you? Is it comfortable? Challenging? Too familiar? Demeaning? If it is your default position, make sure your giving is in balance with your being nourished by God and the community. If serving others is uncomfortable, practice. Go serve a meal at a shelter or soup kitchen. Take on a clerical task in your work life, even if you’re an executive.
First or last, we are never alone in our serving. We serve alongside the One who had everything and gave it all in service to an ungrateful world. He can show us how to be servants of all with dignity and grace, so that we become not doormats, but doorways into God's presence.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
We all know people like this – and some of us have been people like this. People who jump up to fetch anything anyone might need, who are always asking, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?,” who put aside their lives and careers to care for children or infirm parents, who show up at events even when they’re tired. As a culture, we’re ambivalent about such folks – sometimes we say, “What a saint!” and other times, “How codependent is she!”
Some of Jesus' teaching sounds like we are to be holy doormats, laying aside our own agendas, never seeking to be in charge, always serving. For instance, when he heard his disciples arguing about who was the greatest, He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Does the virtue of Christian humility demand that we sacrifice our dreams and passions? Or does being the servant of all rather require that we be true to who God made us to be? Think about it: we cannot empty ourselves if we are not full of ourselves.
Our culture defines being “full of oneself” as conceited, self-promoting. But that way of being comes from a place of insecurity, a heart that is empty, a self that is not quite full. A healthy person knows who she or he is, faults and blind spots, strengths and gifts. Only as we truly own the fullness of who God made us to be can we empty ourselves for the sake of God’s mission. After all, Jesus did not pour himself out from stocks that were running low; he poured himself out from the fullness of his humanity and divinity.
If we want to excel as disciples of Jesus Christ, it is our calling to serve the world in his name. How does serving others sit with you? Is it comfortable? Challenging? Too familiar? Demeaning? If it is your default position, make sure your giving is in balance with your being nourished by God and the community. If serving others is uncomfortable, practice. Go serve a meal at a shelter or soup kitchen. Take on a clerical task in your work life, even if you’re an executive.
First or last, we are never alone in our serving. We serve alongside the One who had everything and gave it all in service to an ungrateful world. He can show us how to be servants of all with dignity and grace, so that we become not doormats, but doorways into God's presence.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
8-30-22 - Cross Purposes
You can listen to this reflection here.
This Sunday’s gospel passage begins, "Now large crowds were travelling with him… " I wonder how large the crowds were when Jesus was done talking. Was he trying to cull out the faddists and thrill-seekers with his talk of “hating your mother and father,” and “carrying your cross?”
“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
Talking about “carrying your cross” to subjects in a Roman colony might just do it – the cross was a brutal and terrifying imperial instrument of execution. I can imagine a few people in that crowd paused, let themselves fall back to the margins, and slunk off home.
I might have been one of them. If we interpret “carry the cross” as “embrace your suffering,” as some have done, I won’t rush forward to sign up. But I don’t believe God desires suffering for his beloved, despite passages in the bible that suggest it can be part of God’s plan. I believe God shows up in the midst of suffering that comes our way from other sources; that God’s power and love can redeem and transform it into an opportunity for healing and growth.
How else might we interpret “carry your cross?” One way might be, "Take up your ministry, commit yourself to your part within the whole of God’s mission of restoration and reconciliation." The way each of us is called to participate in God’s mission is a product of our gifts, our passions and our circumstances – and the leading of the Holy Spirit. It is not something we undertake alone. We undertake it with the second half of that imperative, “and follow me.” As we become people of purpose following Christ, using our gifts, filled and guided by the Holy Spirit, we find ourselves more focused and peaceful.
The fullness of Jesus’ ministry involved suffering on the cross. Because he did, we don’t have to. We may be asked to sacrifice our resources, our prerogatives, our agenda; we might even encounter resistance and suffering, but not because suffering is redemptive – because passionate engagement in God’s mission transforms us and the world.
What do you see as one of your ministries as a Christ-follower? Where do your gifts, passions and circumstances intersect? List some of your gifts and passions, and think through your circumstances: where do you live, what do you do, who do you live with, who do you live around? That's important data.
Do you feel asked to sacrifice, “lay down,” any of your privileges, preferences or resources to make space for others? To alleviate suffering for other people? Have a conversation with Jesus about the answers you arrive at.
Finding our way into God’s mission is a lifetime vocation. At different times in our lives we’re called to live out our mission in different ways. Where will you “carry the cross” today?
This Sunday’s gospel passage begins, "Now large crowds were travelling with him… " I wonder how large the crowds were when Jesus was done talking. Was he trying to cull out the faddists and thrill-seekers with his talk of “hating your mother and father,” and “carrying your cross?”
“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
Talking about “carrying your cross” to subjects in a Roman colony might just do it – the cross was a brutal and terrifying imperial instrument of execution. I can imagine a few people in that crowd paused, let themselves fall back to the margins, and slunk off home.
I might have been one of them. If we interpret “carry the cross” as “embrace your suffering,” as some have done, I won’t rush forward to sign up. But I don’t believe God desires suffering for his beloved, despite passages in the bible that suggest it can be part of God’s plan. I believe God shows up in the midst of suffering that comes our way from other sources; that God’s power and love can redeem and transform it into an opportunity for healing and growth.
How else might we interpret “carry your cross?” One way might be, "Take up your ministry, commit yourself to your part within the whole of God’s mission of restoration and reconciliation." The way each of us is called to participate in God’s mission is a product of our gifts, our passions and our circumstances – and the leading of the Holy Spirit. It is not something we undertake alone. We undertake it with the second half of that imperative, “and follow me.” As we become people of purpose following Christ, using our gifts, filled and guided by the Holy Spirit, we find ourselves more focused and peaceful.
The fullness of Jesus’ ministry involved suffering on the cross. Because he did, we don’t have to. We may be asked to sacrifice our resources, our prerogatives, our agenda; we might even encounter resistance and suffering, but not because suffering is redemptive – because passionate engagement in God’s mission transforms us and the world.
What do you see as one of your ministries as a Christ-follower? Where do your gifts, passions and circumstances intersect? List some of your gifts and passions, and think through your circumstances: where do you live, what do you do, who do you live with, who do you live around? That's important data.
Do you feel asked to sacrifice, “lay down,” any of your privileges, preferences or resources to make space for others? To alleviate suffering for other people? Have a conversation with Jesus about the answers you arrive at.
Finding our way into God’s mission is a lifetime vocation. At different times in our lives we’re called to live out our mission in different ways. Where will you “carry the cross” today?
3-31-22 - Anointing
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When Mary of Bethany poured a full jar of expensive oil of nard all over Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair, she wasn’t just trying to relax him with a little aromatherapy. She was anointing him, while she still could, guessing that his time on earth was short. Nard, an essential oil derived from spikenard, a flowering plant in the Valerian family (thanks, Wikipedia…) had many uses, although, except for a reference in the Iliad to its use in perfuming a body, it does not appear to have had funerary use. The spices brought after Jesus’ crucifixion were a mixture of myrrh and aloes.
Yet Jesus answers Mary’s critics with this cryptic observation: “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”
The Bible relates many kinds of anointing – of priests and prophets, of kings and kings-to-be; anointing for healing; the hint of anointing in baptism; and the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This act of Mary’s doesn’t fit any of those categories. And if she bought the oil for Jesus’ burial, why does she use it all now?
Knowing the danger he was in, perhaps she wanted him to feel in a tactile way the love of those who surrounded him. Perhaps she had a sense of the horrors ahead, and wanted him to have one moment of pampering. Perhaps she wanted to show the others how to give it all. Perhaps she thought the day of his burial would be too late to do him any good.
And six days later, Jesus will be washing the feet of his disciples, perhaps inspired by this incident? He will let them know in a tactile way what love feels like, the love of one who lays aside his power and prerogatives for the beloved. They don’t really understand then, any more than they likely understood Mary’s gesture. But later they would.
Who in our lives needs to feel our love in that way? Who needs us to relinquish power or privilege and give of our time, our gifts, our pride? Maybe someone to whom we are close; maybe someone we don’t know at all.
Feet are intimate, way too much so for many people; some churches wash hands instead of feet on Maundy Thursday. That breaks my heart a little: intimacy is the point. Being met at the place of our least attractive feature is the point. Being pampered and loved – and yes, anointed – is how God makes effective saints out of ordinary people. All it requires is submitting to love. Even Jesus did that.
When Mary of Bethany poured a full jar of expensive oil of nard all over Jesus’ feet and wiped them with her hair, she wasn’t just trying to relax him with a little aromatherapy. She was anointing him, while she still could, guessing that his time on earth was short. Nard, an essential oil derived from spikenard, a flowering plant in the Valerian family (thanks, Wikipedia…) had many uses, although, except for a reference in the Iliad to its use in perfuming a body, it does not appear to have had funerary use. The spices brought after Jesus’ crucifixion were a mixture of myrrh and aloes.
Yet Jesus answers Mary’s critics with this cryptic observation: “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”
The Bible relates many kinds of anointing – of priests and prophets, of kings and kings-to-be; anointing for healing; the hint of anointing in baptism; and the anointing of the Holy Spirit. This act of Mary’s doesn’t fit any of those categories. And if she bought the oil for Jesus’ burial, why does she use it all now?
Knowing the danger he was in, perhaps she wanted him to feel in a tactile way the love of those who surrounded him. Perhaps she had a sense of the horrors ahead, and wanted him to have one moment of pampering. Perhaps she wanted to show the others how to give it all. Perhaps she thought the day of his burial would be too late to do him any good.
And six days later, Jesus will be washing the feet of his disciples, perhaps inspired by this incident? He will let them know in a tactile way what love feels like, the love of one who lays aside his power and prerogatives for the beloved. They don’t really understand then, any more than they likely understood Mary’s gesture. But later they would.
Who in our lives needs to feel our love in that way? Who needs us to relinquish power or privilege and give of our time, our gifts, our pride? Maybe someone to whom we are close; maybe someone we don’t know at all.
Feet are intimate, way too much so for many people; some churches wash hands instead of feet on Maundy Thursday. That breaks my heart a little: intimacy is the point. Being met at the place of our least attractive feature is the point. Being pampered and loved – and yes, anointed – is how God makes effective saints out of ordinary people. All it requires is submitting to love. Even Jesus did that.
10-14-21 - Are You Being Served?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Didn’t Jesus want to get breakfast in bed every now and then? Oh wait, “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Okay, then how about dinner? We know he was not averse to attending dinner parties, and at least twice he allowed women to anoint his feet, be it with ointment or tears. So he was willing to be served on occasion.
Yet here he says, “…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.”
Okay, I’m being overly literal. Of course, Jesus received service as well as gave it. But overall, he was a net giver. (It’s hard to top giving your life...). And he wanted his followers to get it through their heads and hearts that their priority was to serve others, often without reward, possibly at the cost of their lives. He even washed their feet to teach them kinetically what perhaps they couldn’t fully grasp from his words – that love needs to be embodied in order to be received. Afterward, he told them, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”
Serving others, especially those who cannot repay you, is embedded in the Christian life. As followers of Christ, we are called to be net givers, even if some people to whom we give are net takers. At the same time, serving and being served need to be in some kind of balance. If we are never willing to receive service, we can find ourselves giving from a place of pride rather than humility. As most people will tell you on Maundy Thursday, it’s a lot harder to accept someone else washing your feet than it is to wash someone else’s.
What does a community look like in which everyone believes they have come not to be served but to serve? At its best, it looks like a community of mutual caring and love, in which people are always looking around to see who needs to be served. Then everyone is at some point the recipient of another’s care, and everyone is a giver of service.
We have to offer service without thought to whether or not someone will care for us – but if we are never on the receiving end, that can be a sign that we are operating too much in isolation. Do a little assessment today – are you a net giver or net receiver in your life right now? How might Jesus invite you to address any imbalance?
One way is to ask Him to lead us each day in the service we offer. The Son of Man is still in the business of serving, but now we are his hands, feet, voice and love. As we offer service with his Spirit in us, we’ll find we are not drained, but actually served ourselves.
Didn’t Jesus want to get breakfast in bed every now and then? Oh wait, “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Okay, then how about dinner? We know he was not averse to attending dinner parties, and at least twice he allowed women to anoint his feet, be it with ointment or tears. So he was willing to be served on occasion.
Yet here he says, “…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.”
Okay, I’m being overly literal. Of course, Jesus received service as well as gave it. But overall, he was a net giver. (It’s hard to top giving your life...). And he wanted his followers to get it through their heads and hearts that their priority was to serve others, often without reward, possibly at the cost of their lives. He even washed their feet to teach them kinetically what perhaps they couldn’t fully grasp from his words – that love needs to be embodied in order to be received. Afterward, he told them, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”
Serving others, especially those who cannot repay you, is embedded in the Christian life. As followers of Christ, we are called to be net givers, even if some people to whom we give are net takers. At the same time, serving and being served need to be in some kind of balance. If we are never willing to receive service, we can find ourselves giving from a place of pride rather than humility. As most people will tell you on Maundy Thursday, it’s a lot harder to accept someone else washing your feet than it is to wash someone else’s.
What does a community look like in which everyone believes they have come not to be served but to serve? At its best, it looks like a community of mutual caring and love, in which people are always looking around to see who needs to be served. Then everyone is at some point the recipient of another’s care, and everyone is a giver of service.
We have to offer service without thought to whether or not someone will care for us – but if we are never on the receiving end, that can be a sign that we are operating too much in isolation. Do a little assessment today – are you a net giver or net receiver in your life right now? How might Jesus invite you to address any imbalance?
One way is to ask Him to lead us each day in the service we offer. The Son of Man is still in the business of serving, but now we are his hands, feet, voice and love. As we offer service with his Spirit in us, we’ll find we are not drained, but actually served ourselves.
9-17-21 - Welcoming God
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
More than once, Jesus tells his disciples that how they treat the vulnerable directly affects their relationship to him. In Matthew 25, it’s those who are hungry, naked, imprisoned, sick or outsiders. In our passage this week, it is the child, the child who has nothing obvious to offer, who is raw potential.
What does it mean to welcome God in a child? It means to welcome joy and wonder, unpredictability, rule-breaking – or rule reinterpreting. It means to welcome the instinctual along with the intellectual, the emotional in concert with the organizational. It means to welcome the whole person, mind, body and spirit, just as he is, not yet fully formed but already representing the God in whose image she is made.
What does it mean to welcome God in the vulnerable and marginalized? It goes way beyond meeting their needs. That’s too low a bar for Christ-followers. It means engaging them as full persons, as equals, according them the same dignity as we would God, or anyone we consider important. It means seeking out their gifts and assets and making space for them to give to us. It means risking vulnerability ourselves by entering into relationship, not the uneven power relationship of giver to recipient, but a relationship of equals, strangers who might become friends.
The disciples thought God was best represented by the one who could be considered greatest among them, so they engaged in what we might crudely call a “pissing contest” to determine who that might be. Wrong, wrong, wrong, says Jesus. The one who might be considered greatest is the one who is willing to be the most vulnerable.
One of the best examples of that in our day is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who said she saw Christ in the lepers and outcasts whom she nursed and loved. Lepers and outcasts come in all shapes and sizes – some even have sizable bank accounts. It isn’t for us to determine worthiness, just to commit to being about the ministry of welcoming God.
What would it feel like if we went through our days not looking for God so much as looking to see where we might welcome God into our lives? “Who will God show up in today?” is a question we might ask each morning. “In whom did I welcome God?” we could ask at the close of day.
Even asking that question will open us up. And then we are likely to be one through whom God is revealed to another. And then we’ll know what it’s like to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.
More than once, Jesus tells his disciples that how they treat the vulnerable directly affects their relationship to him. In Matthew 25, it’s those who are hungry, naked, imprisoned, sick or outsiders. In our passage this week, it is the child, the child who has nothing obvious to offer, who is raw potential.
What does it mean to welcome God in a child? It means to welcome joy and wonder, unpredictability, rule-breaking – or rule reinterpreting. It means to welcome the instinctual along with the intellectual, the emotional in concert with the organizational. It means to welcome the whole person, mind, body and spirit, just as he is, not yet fully formed but already representing the God in whose image she is made.
What does it mean to welcome God in the vulnerable and marginalized? It goes way beyond meeting their needs. That’s too low a bar for Christ-followers. It means engaging them as full persons, as equals, according them the same dignity as we would God, or anyone we consider important. It means seeking out their gifts and assets and making space for them to give to us. It means risking vulnerability ourselves by entering into relationship, not the uneven power relationship of giver to recipient, but a relationship of equals, strangers who might become friends.
The disciples thought God was best represented by the one who could be considered greatest among them, so they engaged in what we might crudely call a “pissing contest” to determine who that might be. Wrong, wrong, wrong, says Jesus. The one who might be considered greatest is the one who is willing to be the most vulnerable.
One of the best examples of that in our day is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who said she saw Christ in the lepers and outcasts whom she nursed and loved. Lepers and outcasts come in all shapes and sizes – some even have sizable bank accounts. It isn’t for us to determine worthiness, just to commit to being about the ministry of welcoming God.
What would it feel like if we went through our days not looking for God so much as looking to see where we might welcome God into our lives? “Who will God show up in today?” is a question we might ask each morning. “In whom did I welcome God?” we could ask at the close of day.
Even asking that question will open us up. And then we are likely to be one through whom God is revealed to another. And then we’ll know what it’s like to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.
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