Jesus wasn't a baker. He was a carpenter and a storyteller and (apparently) an amateur -- excuse me, artisanal -- wine maker. So maybe he makes the happy couple a nice china hutch. And he probably whips up a mean batch of pinot. But he doesn't bake a dang cake. Because cake-baking is just not his thing.
I love stories. Stories shape our lives. The stories we tell about ourselves define who we are. Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw met your mother? We were outside Dr. Munger's music theory class, first class of freshman year at West Chester. We were all so nervous and excited. Or -- well, at least I was nervous. But your mother seemed so confident. She was chatting up everybody and anybody -- you know how she does -- while we waited for Dr. Munger to get there, like this was nothing, like she belonged there. And I just fell in love with her on the spot. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was cute as a button...
Jesus's message to the power brokers of the day is pretty clearly that he is all outta bubblegum. He is here to announce that change is coming -- indeed, that it is here, that it is at hand -- that there is a new way of doing things, and it is going to disturb their conventions, it will not align with their agendas, and it will flip just about every apple carp of expectation they have ever built.
This whole healing people thing? It was actually kind of a distraction to his main mission. It brought sick people out of the woodwork, not to hear about a Kingdom, but just for the chance to be touched by him and escape the pain and drudgery of their everyday lives. And these hurting people? They interrupted his sermons all the time. One guy even busted in through the roof of the house Jesus was preaching at. It was really bad, you guys! Who could possible preach under those kind of conditions?
Can you keep a secret? There came a point, a couple years ago, when I came to hate reading the Bible. So, for all intents and purposes, I stopped. We were doing a Disciple Bible Study at our local United Methodist Church, and the further we got into it, the angrier I got at the… Continue reading How I learned to stop worrying and love the Bible
Every time this song came on the radio, I would cry out to God in my distress. Just like the Psalmist and every preacher and Sunday school teacher and worship song had taught me to do. And God did not answer.