Gospel of Luke

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Skimming versus Digging

November 24, 2013 By Michelle 17 Comments

“I think we’ve given enough,” I announce to Brad early Sunday morning as I hold my church’s stewardship campaign brochure open in my hand. I rattle off the charities we’ve supported and the donations we’ve made to the church in the last year. It feels significant, impressive even. I give myself a smug little pat on the back, satisfied with my generosity. I feel Jesus-y, and it feels good.

…until I read this week’s lesson about the widow who drops two small coins – everything she has – into the offering plate.

“I tell you the truth,” says Jesus, “this poor widow has given more than all the rest of them. For they have given a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she has.” (Luke 21:3-4).

We don’t particularly like this story, do we? I know I don’t, because every time I read it, I see myself in the rich giver. My giving smacks of self-righteousness. My giving allows me to pretend I am sacrificing, when in fact, I am simply skimming off the top.

Jesus sees the difference between the substantial offerings of the rich people versus the seemingly paltry offering made by the widow. The wealthy gave from their surplus – their donation, though outwardly generous, didn’t really impact their standard of living or their bottom line, nor did it seem to come from the heart. The widow, on the other hand, made a true sacrifice. Though her gift seemed small, those two coins were everything she had. Those two coins were the most generous gift she could possibly make, and she gave it all.

The rich skimmed the surface of their surplus, even though they had plenty. The widow dug deep and gave everything, even though she lacked.

I don’t think Jesus necessarily instructs us to give every penny and our last dollar to the church. Rather, I think he asks us to look at our motives for and methods of giving.

When we give, do we consider God first, and then ourselves?

When we give, do we offer God our leftovers, or do we give him our first fruits?

When we give, are we doing so to feel good about ourselves and our own Jesus-y generosity?

Are we giving because we want to, or because we feel that we have to?

Consider again the gifts made by the wealthy and the widow in this story.

One donor fed his own ego. The other donor fed the Lord.

And then ask yourself this: what kind of giver am I?

Questions for Reflection:
Let’s get honest: who are you in this story, the rich giver, contributing from your surplus, or more like the widow, giving generously from the heart? And if you’re like me, feeling uncomfortably more like the rich giver, what’s one way you can move a little closer toward the kind of generosity the widow displays?

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: We are Part of Filling the Need

November 17, 2013 By Michelle 17 Comments

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life – whether you have enough food to eat or enough clothes to wear. For life is more than food, and your body more than clothing…Your Father already knows your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” (Luke 12:22, 31)

When I read these verses part of me wonders if God is holding up his end of the deal.

I can’t help but think about the millions who lack even the most basic necessities. God tells us not to worry about the little things, but what about the millions who don’t have a single pair of shoes? What about the millions who don’t have a single bowl of rice to place on the table in front of their children? What about the millions who cannot get a single vaccination to ward off a preventable disease? What about them, God? Why aren’t they getting everything they need?

And what about Jackline? I ask God.

Jackline is the young woman we sponsor in Tanzania. Her picture hangs on our refrigerator, her smile radiant against a backdrop of vivid pink flowers. Last year she graduated from high school, and when we heard she’d aced her national examinations and been admitted to the university, I grinned with pride and joy.

It sounds a little silly, I know, but Jackline feels a little bit like our own daughter, even though we’ve never even met her face-to-face. We pray for her. We cheer for her. We celebrate with her. And we mourn with her.

Jackline missed her very first week of college classes last month. Her younger brother died, she told us in a brief email. She’d gone home for the funeral.

What about Jackline? I ask God.

If God promises he will give us everything we need, that we need not worry about anything, big or small, why does Jackline mourn the loss of her brother on her first day of college? Why, when she already has so little, does she still have to suffer so much?

Of course I don’t have the answers to those questions. But when I force myself to look hard at the truth, I do know this:

The burden to provide isn’t all on God. I’m in the mix, too — right there in the middle. And it’s my job, my personal responsibility, to stand in the gap, even if that standing in seems small and irrelevant and not ever nearly enough.

I sat at my computer for a long time as I struggled to compose a reply to Jackline. When I finally put my fingers to the keyboard, my email wasn’t very long or eloquent. But as I typed I prayed my simple sentences would convey love, comfort and compassion to the daughter I’ve never met. I prayed my small words would cross oceans and mountains and thousands of miles and embed themselves in Jackline’s heart.

I prayed that God would take my inadequate words and somehow use them to fill Jackline’s need, to somehow make them enough.

Questions for Reflection:
What’s your reaction to these verses about worry in Luke? Do you ever wonder how this Scripture applies to the world’s poorest and most needy? Do you believe you have a responsibility as a provider? And if you answer yes, what’s one small way you can fulfill that responsibility?

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: When You Wrestle with Giving versus Getting

November 10, 2013 By Michelle 38 Comments

I cleaned out my closest last weekend. I also cleaned out the boys’ closets, and I politely insisted that my husband clean out his, too. And I helped him. He might argue about my use of the word “help.” But I really do feel like I did him a great service, standing at the threshold of his closet, shaking my head as he held up one shirt after another. He drew the line at the 1981 Foghat concert t-shirt. That one went back into the closet, instead of into the bag bound for Goodwill. Maybe next time.

I like to organize closets. Nothing brings me more satisfaction than knowing I have sorted through every last purse, every last pair of jeans, every last of my husband’s golf shirts and discarded those I don’t wear, don’t fit or, as in the case of Brad’s golf shirts, are just plain ugly.

Last Saturday I felt liberated as I drove three trash bags full of discarded items over to the Goodwill and nine grocery bags of books (yes, nine – have I mentioned I am married to an English professor?) to donate to the library. It felt good to hand over so much stuff.

Until, that is, I was struck with the sudden urge to shop. No sooner had I unloaded the donated items from my mini-van when I immediately felt the overpowering desire to hit Target and replenish the “void.”

There seems to be a pattern here. I cull through my offensive amount of stuff and donate a bunch of it to charity, and then battle the urge to buy more.

Somehow my giving seems to entitle my getting.

I probably don’t need to tell you that this isn’t what God has in mind for us.

The truth is, God values relationship over riches, substance over more stuff – relationship with him, as well as with each other.

“Life is not measured by how much you own,” Jesus tells us (Luke 12:15-21).

Frankly, I don’t think God cares very much that I gave away three trash bags of clothes and nine bags of books last week. In fact, he might be wondering why in the world I’d acquired so much stuff I didn’t need or use in the first place.

No, I suspect God would prefer I spend my time not shopping to acquire more stuff I don’t need, but spending that time in relationship with him through my relationships with others.

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t turn the mini-van toward the Target parking lot last Saturday. Instead, I drove straight home. And later that weekend I spent the entire afternoon sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of my neighbor’s living room, my shoes off, feet tucked into the cushion. We chatted about the weather, recipes and good reads – nothing particularly special or exciting.

But when I left her house and walked down the sidewalk toward my own home, I felt refreshed and fulfilled, relaxed and at peace – the kind of peace that will never come with the purchase of a brand-new purse.

What about you? Do you ever feel entitled to get just because you’ve given? What’s one thing you can give away this week (without buying something new to replace it!)?

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: What To Do When Doubt Takes Your Breath Away

April 8, 2013 By Michelle 33 Comments

He drops the bomb at dinner, over meatloaf and baked potato: “I think I might be in a not-believing-in-God stage.” My heart sinks. “Really?” I ask, peering at Rowan around the vase in the middle of the table. “What makes you think that?” I try to sound casual, nonplussed.

“I just can’t get over the idea of being dead,” Rowan explains. “It seems so weird to think that once you’re dead, you’re just gone, like, not existing at all.” Now he’s trying to sound casual. But his eyes are wide, unblinking. He stares at me hard across the dining room table, holds my gaze. I can tell he is afraid.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, spooning sour cream onto my potato. “Everyone doubts sometimes, everyone wonders about God and death and everything. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah!” Noah pipes up. “I had my not-believing-in-God stage all the way until the start of fourth grade. Then after that I was fine.” I’m not sure I knew this, but I nod vigorously anyway, like Noah’s example is proof that everything will indeed be okay.

I’m still thinking about that dinnertime conversation a few days later, though, when I read the story of the road to Emmaus. I’m having trouble with verse 16:

But God kept them from recognizing him.

Two of Jesus’ followers were walking together, three days after his crucifixion. Jesus appeared alongside and began to walk with them, but they didn’t know who he was. Not just that they didn’t recognize him, but that God kept them from recognizing him, the text reads.

I don’t like this verse. I search Bible Gateway for other translations, hoping for a different interpretation. Nearly all of them translate the verse the same way or very similarly.

Why? Why does God keep the men from recognizing Jesus? I wonder. Why would God intentionally keep us from seeing him?

I wrestle with the text for days, reading and re-reading the story. And while I’m not sure I get an answer to the why?, I finally realize something important. It’s true, Jesus is exasperated by his followers’ disbelief. But instead of throwing up his hands and walking away, he begins to teach them. Again. From the beginning. He starts way back with Moses and the prophets, and he points out each and every instance in which the Bible paves the way toward his resurrection.

When his own disciples doubt him, when they waver in their faith, Jesus brings them back to the Bible.

He brings them back to him through the Bible.

It’s only later, after Jesus has been revealed to them in the breaking of the bread, that the two disciples realize this. “Didn’t our hearts burn within us as he talked with us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32), they say, astounded. The Scriptures had stirred their hearts to God’s presence; their brains simply needed time to catch up.

There’s a lesson in here for all of us.

When we are lost, when we begin to doubt God, when we can’t see him, even when he stands right in front of us, we need to return to his story.

Open the book, Jesus says. The proof is right there.

And so, even though Rowan’s declaration of doubt takes my breath away, and even though I’m terrified he’ll suffer a lifetime of questions and uncertainty, much like me, I do what Jesus does with his own wanderers. I bring Rowan back to the Bible.

And we begin again.

And a quick note: Kim from Kim’s Country Line won the free copy of Matt Appling’s book Life After Art. Kim, Rowan picked your name from the bowl this morning — congratulations! I sent you an email – please email me your mailing address so Matt can mail you your copy of his book!

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Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Empty-Tomb Euphoria

April 1, 2013 By Michelle 13 Comments

Have you ever experienced the unburdening of an unexpectedly good prognosis? Have you ever found a thing of great value that was lost? Have you ever felt the relief of a relationship reconciled? If so, you may understand some fraction of the shock and disbelief and rising euphoria that the women experienced at the tomb.

They have been at the lowest point of despair. As followers of Jesus, they had dedicated their work and mental energy and reputations to a ministry that was now in shambles. Their leader was dead, their comrades were in hiding and they came to the tomb to perform one final gesture of obedience to their Lord.

“So they went in, but they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled, two men suddenly appeared to them, clothed in dazzling robes. The women were terrified and bowed with their faces to the ground. Then the men asked, ‘Why are you looking among the dead for someone who is alive? He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead!'” (Luke 24:3-6)

The stone is rolled away and the body of Jesus gone. They are reminded of the story he had foretold, and the mist begins to lift. Like the recipients of any incredible news, their first impulse is to run and tell others who will share the joy. They must be stumbling and crying for joy as they run.

That is the feeling of Easter: the perpetual second chance, the journey from weight to weightlessness, from despair to joy.

Today, as you walk into your day, take a deep, grateful breath and remember that grace has made every burden manageable and temporary. We are a people of empty-tomb euphoria. Let’s let our actions reflect our joy! He is risen; we are redeemed!

Dear Lord, thank you for flooding the world with redeeming grace. By your sacrifice we are made whole and given an example of perfect love to follow. Keep the message and the feeling of Easter joy foremost in our hearts, so that we might follow in your steps and spread the joy of your message to others. Amen.

{This Easter devotion was written by my husband, Brad. And thank *you* for grace these last two weeks as I’ve scrambled to catch up on some other writing projects. I so appreciate the wiggle-room.}

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Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Gospel of Luke

But God kept them from recognizing him.

When his own disciples doubt him, when they waver in their faith, Jesus brings them back to the Bible.

He brings them back to him through the Bible.

Open the book, Jesus says. The proof is right there.

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