Outlive Your Life Part 6

His to-do list? Help for the body and soul, strength for the physical and the spiritual, therapy for the temporal and eternal. "This is my mission statement," Jesus declared. The Nazareth Manifesto.

Preach the gospel to the poor.

Heal the brokenhearted.

Proclaim liberty to the captives.

Proclaim recovery of sight to the blind.

Set at liberty those who are oppressed.

And proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.

"Acceptable year of the LORD" describes, perhaps more than any other words, Jesus' radical commitment to the poor. They are reminiscent of the year of Jubilee, a twice-in-a-century celebration intended to press the restart b.u.t.ton on the machinery of justice.2 Beginning on the Day of Atonement, all the fields were allowed to rest. No farming permitted. The fallow land could recover from forty-nine years of planting and harvesting.

In addition, all the slaves were freed. Anyone who had been sold into slavery or who had sold himself into slavery to pay off debt was released. Bondage ended.

And as if the soil sabbatical and slave emanc.i.p.ation weren't enough, all property was returned to its original owners. In the agricultural society, land was capital. Families could lose their land through calamity, sickness, or even laziness. The Jubilee provision guaranteed that every family, at least twice a century, would have the opportunity to get back on its feet.

Consider the impact of this Jubilee decree. A drought destroys a farmer's crop and leaves the family impoverished. In order to survive, the farmer decides to sell his property and hire out as a day laborer. A sharp investor swoops into the region and buys the farm and also a neighbor's. Within short order the developer has a monopoly, and the farmer has nothing but a prayer.

But then comes the year of Jubilee, what one scholar described as a "regularly scheduled revolution."3 G.o.d shakes the social Etch A Sketch, and everyone is given a clean slate. This injunction was intended to prevent a permanent undercla.s.s of poverty and slavery. People could still be rich, very rich, but they could not build their wealth on the backs of the very poor.

As far as we know, the people of Israel never practiced the year of Jubilee. Still, Jesus alluded to it in his inaugural address. What does this say about G.o.d's heart? At least this: he values a level playing field. In his society the Have-a-Lots and the Have-a-Littles are never to be so far apart that they can't see each other.

Can they see each other today?

Not very well. According to a United Nations Human Development Report, three-quarters of the world's income goes to 20 percent of the world's population.4 Statistics can stagnate, so try this word picture.

Ten dairy farmers occupy the same valley. Among them, they own ten milk cows. But the cows aren't evenly distributed among the ten farmers-not one cow to one farmer. It's more like this: two of the farmers own eight cows, and the other eight farmers share two cows. Does that seem fair?

The two of us who own the eight cows might say, "I worked for my cows." Or "It's not my fault that we have more cows." Perhaps we should try this question: Why do a few of us have so much and most of us have so little?

I spent the better part of a morning pondering such a question on the Ethiopian farm of Dadhi. Dadhi is a st.u.r.dy but struggling husband and father. His dirt-floored mud hut would fit easily in my garage. His wife's handwoven baskets decorate his walls. Straw mats are rolled and stored against the sides, awaiting nightfall when all seven family members will sleep on them. Dadhi's five children smile quickly and hug tightly. They don't know how poor they are.

Dadhi does. He earns less than a dollar a day at a nearby farm. He'd work his own land, except a plague took the life of his ox. His only one. With no ox, he can't plow. With no plowed field, he can't sow a crop. If he can't sow a crop, he can't harvest one.

All he needs is an ox.

Dadhi is energetic and industrious. He has mastered a trade and been faithful to his wife. He's committed no crimes. Neighbors respect him. He seems every bit as intelligent as I am, likely more so. He and I share the same aspirations and dreams. I scribbled out a chart, listing our many mutual attributes.

Attributes Dadhi Max Physically able X X Willing to work X X Trained to do a job X X Loves family X X Sober and drug free X X Good reputation X You tell me We have much in common. Then why the disparity? Why does it take Dadhi a year to earn what I can spend on a sport coat?

Part of the complex answer is this: he was born in the wrong place. He is, as Bono said, "an accident of lat.i.tude."5 A lat.i.tude void of unemployment insurance, disability payments, college grants, Social Security, and government supplements. A lat.i.tude largely vacant of libraries, vaccinations, clean water, and paved roads. I benefited from each of those. Dadhi has none of them.

In the game of life, many of us who cross home plate do so because we were born on third base. Others aren't even on a team.

You don't have to travel sixteen hours in a plane to find a Dadhi or two. They live in the convalescent home you pa.s.s on the way to work, gather at the unemployment office on the corner. They are the poor, the brokenhearted, the captives, and the blind.

Some people are poor because they are lazy. They need to get off their duffs. Others, however, are poor because parasites weaken their bodies, because they spend six hours a day collecting water, because rebel armies ravaged their farms, or because AIDS took their parents.

Couldn't such people use a bit of Jubilee?

Of course they could. So . . .

First, let the church act on behalf of the poor. The apostles did. "So the Twelve called a meeting of all the believers" (Acts 6:2 NLT). They a.s.sembled the entire church. The problem of inequity warranted a churchwide conversation. The leaders wanted every member to know that this church took poverty seriously. The ultimate solution to poverty is found in the compa.s.sion of G.o.d's people. Scripture endorses not forced communism but Spirit-led volunteerism among G.o.d's people.

Second, let the brightest among us direct us. "And so, brothers, select seven men who are well respected and are full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will give them this responsibility" (v. 3 NLT).

The first church meeting led to the first task force. The apostles unleashed their best people on their biggest problem. The challenge demands this. "Poverty," as Rich Stearns, president of World Vision in the United States, told me, "is rocket science." Simple solutions simply don't exist. Most of us don't know what to do about the avalanche of national debt, the withholding of lifesaving medicines, the corruption at the seaports, and the abduction of children. Most of us don't know what to do, but someone does!

Some people are pouring every ounce of G.o.d-given wisdom into the resolution of these problems. We need specialist organizations, such as World Vision, Compa.s.sion International, Living Water, and International Justice Mission. We need our brightest and best to continue the legacy of the Jerusalem task force of Acts 6.

And one more idea. Get ticked off. Riled up enough to respond. Righteous anger would do a world of good. Poverty is not the lack of charity but the lack of justice. Why do two of us have eight cows while the rest of us have two? Why do a billion people go to bed hungry every night?6 Why do nearly thirty thousand children die every day, one every three seconds, from hunger and preventable diseases?7 It's just not fair. Why not do something about it?

Again, no one can do everything, but everyone can do something. Some people can fast and pray about social sin. Others can study and speak out. What about you? Get out of your comfort zone for Christ's sake. Why not teach an inner-city Bible study? Use your vacation to build houses in hurricane-ravaged towns? Run for public office? Help a farmer get an ox?

Speaking of which, I received a note from Dadhi the other day. It included a photo of him and a new family member. A new three-hundred-pound, four-legged family member. Both of them were smiling. I'm thinking G.o.d was too.

Pure and genuine religion in the sight of G.o.d the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.

(James 1:27 NLT) Dear Lord, you promised we would always have the poor among us. Help me to make sure that the reverse is also true: that I am always among the poor-helping, encouraging, and lending a hand wherever I can. Enable me to love the invisible G.o.d by serving the very visible poor in my corner of the world. Help me to be creative without being condescending, encouraging without being egotistic, and fearless without being foolish. May the poor bless you because of me, and may my efforts somehow reduce the number of the poor. In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

CHAPTER 11.

Remember

Who Holds You

Heaven is My throne, and earth is My footstool. What house will you build for Me? says the LORD, or what is the place of My rest? Has My hand not made all these things?

-ACTS 7:4950

When my nephew Lawson was three years old, he asked me to play some basketball. A towheaded spark plug of a boy, he delights in anything round and bouncy. When he spotted the basketball and goal in my driveway, he couldn't resist.

The ball, however, was as big as his midsection. The basket was three times his height. His best heaves fell way short. So I set out to help him. I lowered the goal from ten feet to eight feet. I led him closer to the target. I showed him how to "granny toss" the ball. Nothing helped. The ball never threatened the net. So I gave him a lift. With one hand on his back and my other beneath his little bottom, I lifted him higher and higher until he was eye level with the rim.

"Make a basket, Lawson!" I urged. And he did. He rolled the ball over the iron hoop, and down it dropped. Swoos.h.!.+ And how did little Lawson respond? Still cradled in my hands, he punched both fists into the air and declared, "All by myself! All by myself!"

A bit of an overstatement, don't you think, little fellow? After all, who held you? Who steadied you? Who showed you the way? Aren't you forgetting somebody?

Stephen asked the same questions of the Jewish religious leaders.

He was one of the seven men tasked to care for the Gentile widows. Luke describes him as "full of faith and power, [who] did great wonders and signs among the people" (Acts 6:8). His ministry, however, provoked antagonism. A sect of jealous enemies falsely accused him of blasphemy. They marched him to the council of the Sanhedrin and demanded that he defend himself. Did he ever!

He caused a stir before he even opened his mouth. "Everyone in the high council stared at Stephen, because his face became as bright as an angel's" (Acts 6:15 NLT). Glowing cheeks. Light pouring through the pores of his face. Did his beard s.h.i.+mmer? Did heaven bathe him in a tunnel of brightness? I don't know how to imagine the scene. But I know how to interpret it. This was G.o.d speaking. The sermon emerges, not from Stephen's mind, but from G.o.d's heart. Every vowel, consonant, and clearing of the throat was his. This was no casual message.

Nor was it a lightweight message. Fifty-two verses that led the listeners from Abraham to Jesus. Two thousand years of Hebrew history resulted in one indictment: "You're forgetting who holds you."

Stephen began with G.o.d's land grant.

Our glorious G.o.d appeared to our ancestor Abraham in Mesopotamia before he settled in Haran. G.o.d told him, "Leave your native land and your relatives, and come into the land that I will show you." So Abraham left the land of the Chaldeans and lived in Haran until his father died. Then G.o.d brought him here to the land where you now live. (Acts 7:24 NLT) The only reason the Jews enjoyed a square inch of real estate was the kindness of G.o.d. He "appeared," "said," "promised," "spoke," "said," and "gave" (vv. 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8). Even then, Abraham's children almost squandered it away. They sold their brother into Egyptian slavery, divvied up the loot, and contrived a tale about an accidental death. The family lived with the lie for decades (vv. 915). Is this the way G.o.d's chosen people behave?

But G.o.d intervened. He "was with [Joseph]," "delivered," "gave him favor," "gave . . . wisdom," and "made [Joseph] governor" (vv. 910). When the people forgot G.o.d, G.o.d pursued the people.

Stephen continued with the story of Moses, "a beautiful child in G.o.d's eyes" (v. 20 NLT). Stephen recounted Moses' childhood among the Egyptians, his forty years of isolation, and his role as ruler and savior.

[Moses] led them out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and through the wilderness for forty years . . .

Moses was with our ancestors, the a.s.sembly of G.o.d's people in the wilderness, when the angel spoke to him at Mount Sinai. And there Moses received life-giving words to pa.s.s on to us. (vv. 36, 38 NLT) Once again G.o.d was the Great Initiator. He placed Moses in the household of Pharaoh and educated him in the Ivy League schools of Egypt. He trained him in the way of the wilderness and equipped him with the power to part the Red Sea. G.o.d gave food in the desert and the law on the mountain. And how did the people respond? They forgot him. They demanded return tickets on the first Greyhound back to Egypt. They actually made this request: "Make us G.o.ds we can see and follow. This Moses who got us out here miles from nowhere-who knows what's happened to him!" That was the time when they made a calf-idol, brought sacrifices to it, and congratulated each other on the wonderful religious program they had put together.

G.o.d wasn't at all pleased. (vv. 4042 MSG) Stephen's message echoed like the pounding of a kettledrum in the a.s.sembly hall. Our ancestors forgot who brought us here. They forgot who carried us. They turned away from G.o.d, and now you've tried to put him in a box!

Our fathers had the tabernacle of witness in the wilderness . . . until the days of David, who found favor before G.o.d and asked to find a dwelling for the G.o.d of Jacob. But Solomon built Him a house. (vv. 4447) Stephen wasn't showing disrespect to the tabernacle or the temple. Both were built in accordance with G.o.d's will. The mistake was not in their constructing the places of wors.h.i.+p but in thinking the structures could contain G.o.d.

"However, the Most High does not dwell in temples made with hands, as the prophet says: 'Heaven is My throne,

And earth is My footstool.

What house will you build for Me? says the LORD,

Or what is the place of My rest?

Has My hand not made all these things?' (vv. 4850)

Translation? G.o.d cannot be localized. He has no address. No one has a monopoly on him. No temple can contain him.

These words didn't settle well with the Sanhedrin. The temple was the pride of the people: huge stones, glittering gold, ma.s.sive archways, and, most of all, the Holy of Holies-the house of G.o.d. Jews kept this b.u.mper sticker on their oxcarts: "Don't mess with the temple." Yet Stephen challenged their big heads with a huge point: You've forgotten how big G.o.d is.

So far, no good. You boast about a land you did not conquer, a law you did not follow, and a stone box that wouldn't encase G.o.d's pinkie finger. Your view of self? Too big. Your view of G.o.d? Too small. So small that you missed him when he came to town.

Your ancestors killed anyone who dared talk about the coming of the Just One. And you've kept up the family tradition-traitors and murderers, all of you. You had G.o.d's Law handed to you by angels-gift-wrapped!-and you squandered it! (vv. 5253 MSG) Stephen might as well have told the Confederates that "Dixie" was a Yankee saloon song. The council stood in anger. They "gnashed at him with their teeth" (v. 54). They bared their fangs like angry jackals pouncing on fresh meat. "They . . . stopped their ears, and ran at him with one accord; and they cast him out of the city and stoned him" (vv. 5758).

Frightening thing, this pride. It would rather kill the truth than consider it.

Doesn't it sneak up on us? We begin spiritual journeys as small people. The act of conversion is a humbling one. We confess sins, beg for mercy, bend our knees. We let someone lower us into the waters of baptism. We begin as self-effacing souls. Timid children who extend muddy hands to our sinless G.o.d. We relate to the thief on the cross, identify with David's forgiven adultery, and find hope in Peter's forgiven betrayal. We challenge Paul's claim to the chief-of-sinners t.i.tle, wondering if anyone could need or treasure grace as much as we do.

We come to G.o.d humbly. No swagger, no boasts, no "all by myself" declarations. We flex no muscles and claim no achievements. We cup sullied hearts in hands and offer them to G.o.d as we would a crushed, scentless flower: "Can you bring life to this?"

And he does. He does. We don't. He works the miracle of salvation. He immerses us in mercy. He st.i.tches together our shredded souls. He deposits his Spirit and implants heavenly gifts. Our big G.o.d blesses our small faith.

We understand the roles. He is the Milky Way galaxy. We are the sand flea. He is U2, and we are the neighborhood garage band, and that's okay. We need a big G.o.d because we've made a big mess of our lives.

Gradually our big G.o.d changes us. And, gratefully, we l.u.s.t less, love more, lash out less, look heavenward more. We pay bills, pay attention to spouses, pay respect to parents. People notice the difference. They applaud us. Promote us. Admire us. Appoint us. We dare to outlive our lives. We-who came to Christ as sinful, soiled, and small-accomplish things. We build orphanages, lead companies, deliver the confused out of depression and the sick out of disease. Why, we even write books. We don't feel so small anymore. People talk to us as if we are something special.

"You have great influence."

"What strong faith you have."

"We need mighty saints like you."

Feels nice. Kudos become ladder rungs, and we begin to elevate ourselves. We shed our smallness, discard the Clark Kent gla.s.ses, and don a Superman swagger. We forget. We forget who brought us here.