Come see a man

Crash Course 4

            “Come see a man who told me everything I ever did.”

           

             Back up an hour or more. A woman comes to the town’s well in the heat of the day to get the water needed for her cooking and household chores. She comes alone because Sychar’s other women accomplished this task hours earlier in the cool of the new morning.

           

             Jesus shows up, also alone, having sent his guys to buy food. Jesus and the woman have a lively conversation about customs, history, theology, the messiah, and her personal life.

      He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

      “I have no husband,” she replied.

      Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.”

        ^“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. (John 4:16 – 19, NIV)

           

            Would that be my response to a stranger who knew the personal details of my life? 

            In the movies, hit men are hired to silence those who know too much. In politics, candidates drop out of races when something unsavory is revealed from their past.

           

            Somehow the woman didn’t feel threatened by Jesus’ knowledge of her. Instead, she wanted her neighbors to also experience the love without condemnation that can only come from God. 

            That’s the love Christ gives us. That’s the love he wants us to offer to others.

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”
John 4:29

Journeys of Christmas 5

Christmas Day

            Thank you for traveling through Advent with me and the participants in the first Noel, none of whom were home for Christmas. I have one more traveler to write about as we reach Christmas Day. Of all the journeys made that long ago year, none spanned a greater distance than the one made by the Messiah himself. 

            He departed eternity and entered time, trading the expansive light of the universe for the small darkness of his mother’s womb.

            He departed an existence of equality with his father God, and entered a life limited by his new human flesh.

            He departed sovereignty and entered servanthood.

            His journey did not end in a rustic stable in Bethlehem or even on Galilee’s seashore decades later. His journey took him to a skull-shaped hill outside Jerusalem and a rough wooden cross…but it did not end there.

            His journey continued into a chill, soundless tomb…but it did not end there.

            His journey culminated in a rebirth into resurrection life and a return to the place of highest honor at his father’s side.

            Because Jesus made such a journey, we are invited to come home for Christmas, home to God’s family.

            Several years ago, I brought a poem to my writers critique group, where a gifted poet gently suggested I should stick to prose. I ignored her, because some poems need to be shared, even if they rhyme.

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

The Teacher told a tale one day

about a son who runs away.

Sick of home and family rules,

he exits town and hangs with fools,

wastes his cash, then tends a pen

slopping hogs, till one day when

sense returns, he quits the dust,

and pencils a sign, Dad’s House or Bust.

Now here’s the part that really shocked:

The boy gets home, the door’s unlocked,

and Dad comes sprinting down the street,

his errant son to kiss and greet.

Likewise at my Father’s home,

the porch light glows for all to come

and feast on grace and hope and cheer,

because it’s always Christmas here.

Thank you, Jesus, for leaving your father’s home so that we could come home to your father.