I am not an expert on Gaza, on Palestinians, or Islam. Nor am I ready to pass your pop quiz on Israel of the modern day. So, I am not going to pretend I know stuff I don’t. It’s clear to me, though I strongly doubt to many of my readers, that one man’s “shock-n-awe” is another man’s terrorism.

It should be clear to everyone interested in GAZA and Israel that there has been, is currently, and will be death. No matter how things shake out there, there is dying to do, and it is fearful and tragic. There is a cancer of mistrust there that kills those who come in contact with it, and it can’t be prevented, or so it seems.

I’m no surgeon either, so take this with a grain of salt, but as I understand it, when the cancer patient goes under the knife, the surgeon skillfully cuts out the diseased tissue leaving behind the healthy tissue. It’s important to catch the disease early in the process because if too much vital tissue is too heavily infested with the cancer, then the surgeon either cannot leave enough healthy tissue for the body to function, or the surgeon must not operate.

So far in the analogy, I am fairly confident in it, but I’m a little less confident in saying the surgeon will typically cut as close to the dividing line between healthy and diseased tissue as possible, erring on the side of cutting into the healthy tissue. This method eradicates the disease completely with a little collateral damage (to borrow some dark terminology). On the other hand, if the surgeon errs on the side of leaving some of the diseased tissue in tack, hopefully other treatments will subdue it because the cancer is still not eradicated.

Israel seems to be taking the role of the surgeon erring on the side of cutting out part of the healthy tissue in order to eradicate the diseased part. And, of course, Israel loves this kind of metaphor because as a surgeon, the goal, whether effective or not, is to save the patient. Gaza, in this view, has a Hamas cancer, and Israel is like a surgeon helping Gaza be free of it.

All surgery is traumatic to the body in general and the tissue near the site of cutting particularly. Operating with tanks, artillery, and bombs isn’t as precise as a surgeon’s blade, and terrorists blending with the general population makes such careful work all the more messy and damaging. And I haven’t yet mentioned that both Judaism (if we can call it that) and Islam (if we can call it that) are religious faiths oriented toward the same God! The same God as Christianity, by the way.

We are all the people of the same God.

My expertise, which I already say I lack, ends about there. The terrorism of October 7 is/was intolerable, and I get it. I don’t think Palestinians were simply humming in a vacuum before that attack, but I in no way condone it, AND I think Israel should respond. In fact, I can’t find any ground to stand on from which to tell Israel not to bring their guns, tanks, and soldiers right up to the border of Gaza and stop any more attacks from coming across. But clearly Israel has killed Palestinians before, and clearly Palestinians have killed Israelis before too. And clearly, the cancer of death has not been eradicated by the previous killings.

So, since my expertise runs out right there, I want to change the subject and talk about ME. If anyone reading here finds any relevance beyond ME, I welcome them to think about ME with ME as it might apply to the larger world. After all, I am a devotee to the same God as these combatants, and I have to share this world as well as this God with them. How might a Jesus guy have something to say to and about neighbors that don’t get along?

Let me tell you about my inner Gaza.

It turns out I have evil in me. I’m not pure evil, okay? But I got greed, lust, sloth, and meanness in me among a few other tasty bad things. I’m definitely not pure goodness either. I am ashamed to say it. I wish you could see me the way I do (and especially the way I try to see myself). You would give me a lot more advantage if you did.

Anyway, this evil (which is not pure, but is evil) in me is intertwined with my goodness. I mean, it’s amazing how I can pray on a good thing, plan for it, engage in it, and do pretty good for a while too, only to suddenly get frustrated and blow a fuse. I mean, take my volunteering for instance.

So, I sign up, take the training, then show up at the appointed place and time dressed and ready to build a house for Habitat for Humanity. I show up praying, singing, encouraging others, even sharing donuts and kalaches with the crew. But then as I am driving nails, I bend one, mash my thumb with the hammer, and trip off my stool, all in an instant! The word that comes out of my mouth all of a sudden isn’t “Oh, God!” Wish it were, but I find a totally different one right there at hand like a cancer just waiting amid all my good tissue to infect my good deed.

There. That’s a nice safe example.

All that good I do down there at Habitat, and then THIS! Ouch!! Where did it come from? Hmmm… evil in me isn’t pure; it runs deep though.

By the way, evil isn’t pure in anyone. The only time we speak of “pure evil” is when we excuse our hate of our neighbor, and Jesus wants me to love my neighbor AND my enemies. Peace is made in such ways.

But in the meantime, I am trying to cut the evil out of me. The nice, prudish Baptist lady driving nails four feet away from me is offended by my evil, and she gets snitty with me the rest of the day. She wants to rid herself of that evil be sanctioning me – even being rid of me! I didn’t jump over the fence at her house and kill her kids, okay? But she wants rid of me. I am not her kind of neighbor now, and I pay every little social sanction she can hit me with the rest of the day. She makes me pay in the name of good! But there’s not likely ever a place where she and I will be at peace with one another now. That ship has sailed.

Right?

Just imagine where she and I would be if I had hopped the fence and killed her children. If I did that, she would have your sympathy and I would not.

I MIGHT get your sympathy for after killing her kids like that if I told you she killed my parents before I killed her kids, but probably not. Probably, you would think we are both crazy, and you would want to keep us both at arm’s length.

But let’s back up from THAT terrible fantasy a moment since it is starting to sound and feel like my outer Gaza more than my inner Gaza. Also, there is that whole tit-for-tat thingy about “who started it” about the killing going back and forth, about a whirlpool of inertia pulling more and more life into that vortex of death.

Somehow, I should expect THAT of people who don’t know Jesus. But as one who does know Jesus, I should expect SOMEKIND of imagination expansion where peace comes back into view whether I offend a nice Baptist lady with my foul mouth OR kill her kids. And in that imagination, I DON’T get to imagine myself as a surgeon. I don’t get to imagine myself with a gun. Instead, I must turn to the power of LOVE and dare to imagine how love will eradicate the cancer and make this nice Baptist lady and me be friends at peace.

And IF I can image THAT and devote myself to it, it surely is because of Jesus, involves Jesus personally, and thus means YOU, my Christian reader, must imagine this healing peace with me.

Care to try?

And IF we imagine this together, THEN we together have something new to say to Israel and Gaza other than, “Here’s some more weapons and money” or “Hey! You’re not being fair.” When it comes to Israel and Gaza, there has been, currently is, and will be death. And yet every time I partake the Eucharist, I consider the One who died for me, and I give thanx. And I dare to dream how he changes the world.

Want to think about this with me?

I wrote a book on Christian hospitality that is nearing completion (barring a sudden editor to help me revamp it one last time, who as yet is unknown to me). I wrote the bulk of it two years ago, and I hope to engage in self-styled guerilla publishing soon (going so far as to not even call it a “book” at all). (Yeah. What else do you call it? I dunno yet, but one blog reader has suggested calling in an “intervention” which sounds interesting to me.)

Anyway, I am not posting today to talk about THAT. However, it is significant to my post, and so I mention it up front.

The thing is this: I already researched, studied, and produced a study of my own on the topic. In my estimation, God dropped the project on my lap. I wasn’t running from it, but initially I had no interest BECAUSE the very idea of “hospitality” was both completely off my radar and beneath my contempt. (Ain’t that a hoot?) But way back shortly before the pandemic broke out, a reader here (who hasn’t visited in a very long time now) suggested, based on the kinds of things I promote, that I read a book called I Was A Stranger by Arthur Sutherland.

To be frank, I was well aware of the passage in Hebrews 13:2, but it was such an independent, free-floating notion to me at the time, I just had not plugged it into my study, work, and experiences in street ministry. (Shame on me! I should have been all over that like white on rice!!!) And, also to be frank, I had the idea that any “study” of hospitality would be something written by older (not younger) Christian women dealing with social graces, home decor, and possibly a bit about the “hospitality industry” if it got serious. I just don’t care if the drapes match the doilies or if your salad fork is on the left or the right.

In the end, I didn’t use Sutherland’s book all that much, but he demonstrated for me quite clearly that there are huge theological implications for biblical hospitality, and I ran to my own library for more. I searched ABD and found John Koenig’s contribution there, and discovered this is central to my cause, AND is already well mapped out in Christian scholarship, but somehow had not surfaced in any of my studies.

I freely confess, I purchased three (maybe four) books on the topic after that, but I found so much hiding in the footnotes and obscure chapters of books I already own, that I was able to cobble together a full research project just in my home office. (Yes, a couple of internet cites too.) And I was kept busy with this throughout the pandemic – precisely when the whole world was shutting out the whole world! (Ironic.)

But, and here is where all that is going TODAY, even though I have a complete project, a whole study on Christian hospitality, complete with my own syntheses, assertions, hypotheses, and conclusions, I’ve had about two years since this project to continue thinking and acting on the things I have learned and wish to share.

Man, I have enough supplemental experience, information, and insight now to write a companion to the original project with still isn’t published.

I’m finding myself turning ideas around and inside out, looking at them with whole new perspectives. I a talking about biblical ideas we are already quite familiar with in OTHER terms, but now with new perspective, they come alive in whole new ways I never imagined. AND neither have you.

Anyone who still reads here (and that number seems to be dwindling terribly) and finds any value in this blog, I ask you to pray on it with me. I have something to offer to my church and to the world, but practically no way to share it. I can’t even get my own family to take this seriously or even read a single chapter of it.

So, this is sorta a shot in the dark. Who are you, the reader I have left? Care to pray with me about this? Do you have any connections or skills that might help?

Okay, so, let me put together one of these new perspectives for you. See what YOU think.

Missions.

Hospitality.

Now put them together.

How do they fit?

Well, for starts, think of Jesus sending out the 12 (or the 72). This is mission. But how are they sent? “Take nothing with you… stay at the home where you are received and eat what they feed you…”

Hmmm… The mission Jesus sends his missionaries out on requires they find hospitality. And when you study hospitality in the Bible and in Bedouin people, you quickly discover how much a host puts their home on the line for guests! There are some deep, life-giving/life-sustaining exchanges going on in this mission/hospitality scenario.

When I was in school, 25 years ago, Gailyn Van Rheenen was teaching us Bible missions students how historically the church had begun setting up fortresses in host cultures. There was a defensive posture in this. A bubble of cultural safety and superiority created behind “mission” walls from which to disseminate the Gospel and charity to the locals. This, 25 years ago, was coming in for review and found lacking.

I’m now seeing what it lacked.

When Jesus sent out those first missionaries, they still had not witnessed a crucified and risen savior! These were not men with Bible degrees, post grad work, medical doctors, or any of that. They did not raise money from contributions or organizations, and they took all manner of clothes, food, and other things with them when they went. There was no interdependence at all.

On the contrary, God revealed himself to both the host family AND THE MISSIONARIES in the breaking of the bread!

How’s THAT? We just had the first segment of this little Bible study, and it is quite revolutionary. Wouldn’t you say?

And after almost four years thinking on these things, I am prepared to tell you it is only scratching the surface. There is so much more to explore here.

Think about your heart for a moment.

We are always talking about LOVE and about your heart. And rightly so! But in our modern, American cultural lens, that sure struggles to represent MORE than a feeling. No?

Where your heart is, there your treasure is also.

Ever heard THAT?

Meet a bum on the street and have a warm feeling for him. Okay! Try it. (Hey! It is a start! and I support THAT!) Give him $5 out of your whole treasure, and call that the love of God if you can. OR, conversely, go to MY church, pay $30 to take a class published by Lupton, Corbett, and Fikkert which will spend weeks outlining to you how sharing your $5 is wrong and damaging to that bum. (Hint: It’s a smoke screen to hide your greed behind, and come Judgment Day, when the King separates goats and sheep, those who gave water, food, shelter, and care (ahem, hospitality) to the least of these, will go with the sheep.)

What does this have to do with missions?

Your heart and treasure are a mission field, bro. YOU are in need of Christ. It’s a two way street, and the roles reverse all the time. Oh, yeah. God is both missionary and host! Ultimately, he is host, but he plays both roles all the time, and he does it IN YOUR STUFF (or the stuff formerly known as yours).

Think about it.

And let’s talk.

Do you want to help me finish formulating this project and guerilla publishing it?

Let’s talk.

Do you want to learn more, perhaps obtain a copy?

Let’s talk.

It’s a two way street.

Hospitality and missions. They belong together. It goes a long way in explaining why/how the first century church met in homes, I expect. And, THAT church was relevant, spreading around the world with power.

Should Christians celebrate Halloween?

It’s at least an interesting question in the abstract. Don’t you think?

My Thoughtless Indulgence

This is one of those curious developments in my life that nags me. I grew up in Christian home that thoroughly celebrated Halloween. Us kids dressed up and “trick or treated.” Our church even held Halloween parties for youths as well as grown-ups. We carved jack-O-lanterns and all that.

To be frank, our celebrations were pretty tame. Oh, there might be a witch costume, possibly a vampire or Frankenstein monster, but these were frequently accompanied by superheroes or clowns which were not particularly devilish. I don’t recall any hypersexual costumes in those days, but cross-dressing seemed harmless, and not overly sexualized as much as genderbending. (A hairsplitting difference, but one I expect you understand.)

I’m sure the most dangerous part of celebrating Halloween at church was the undetected, unexposed child molesters! (But that’s another subject for another day.)

I ranked Halloween right in there with Independence Day, Valentine’s Day, and St. Patrick’s Day. These ranked a little higher than Memorial Day or Labor Day or April Fool’s Day, but definitely a little lower than Thanksgiving, New Year’s, and especially Christmas. Each one celebrated in slightly different customs, but definitely ranked in intensity and importance. Yet all of them categorized as holidays we Christians were free to indulge – by far most of them being religious (particularly Christian) in nature.

Easter should have been the highest holiday, but it wasn’t. (That gets explained, sorta, below.)

I had no understanding of All Saint’s Day, and in fact had not heard of that until much later. But Halloween remained the biggest of those not in the Top 3. I became dimly aware of kids in like Detroit (a long way from Texas, California, or Arizona where I grew up) who put a little too much trick into their fun and made TV news. I remember the true fear of the season being some urban legend of the bad guy who slipped razor blades or poison into the candy. Aside from that, I worried more about having to wear a coat over my costume than I did about cars hitting kids in the streets. But it completely failed to dawn on me that we indulged a bit of paganism in our celebrations.

I was grown and married the first time I met someone who didn’t celebrate Halloween on Christian principle. I was confronted by the notion rather suddenly on Halloween night, in fact. And, I must say, I was more reactionary than convicted – at first.

No. At first, I just thought my Halloween-denier friends were radical weirdos. Who took this pagan pageantry seriously? It’s all just a bit of harmless fun! I grew up in a devout Christian home, and we never went off the deep end. I never heard of anyone who had. This was more suspicious than the razor blade in the candy!

Rethinking Halloween

But as I sat with it over time, I really didn’t have a defense for celebrating Halloween. I had my reaction, but not a defense. My reaction wasn’t without reason, but it really wasn’t well reasoned either. It was merely the negative side of reason: Who had it hurt, really? And I wasn’t about to get paranoid about it and think how I and my family had been slow boiling in a pot like a lobster. That’s not enough reason either. Slippery slope? Well, okay, except again, who ever really slipped off the slope? Christian’s weren’t exactly dropping like flies into paganism over this!

My parents never addressed Halloween in this way that I can recall. They had informed me how generations past (maybe my grandparents, but more likely their parents) had resisted the idea of having a “Christmas tree” in their home over vague and archaic religious reasons, that trees were pagan and kneeling before one to take a present was like bowing to a lord. These were the same people who wouldn’t touch a deck of playing cards because of the images on them!

Hmmm…

After thinking on that a minute, it occurred to me my Christian ancestors were concerned about such things as pagan aspects of our Christian holidays and about graven images and the like. That seemed ludicrous before, after all, we had family photos and money with images on it, why the concern about cards and Christmas trees. Besides, the faith heritage I grew up in was always stern about NOT venerating Jesus’s birth, per se, but his death, burial, and resurrection which we celebrated every Sunday, and not just at Easter. Easter, then, was a egg-hiding, bunny rabbit holiday, and Christmas was all about Santa Claus and presents, neither one really about Jesus, in our estimation.

Hmmm…

I began to think this issue was far more insidious than I ever realized! How do you delineate these things? And what exactly is the redeeming value of Halloween, especially as celebrated in America today? Do we really turn it into a “Fall Festival” and thus baptize it? That seems like a practical surrender. No?

But wait, now I am slipping into radical weirdness just thinking about this stuff! Surely I should just let it go!

But you know what?

When you think about Halloween in some theological vacuum, there really is no justification for it. We are made in the image of God, but we dress up in all manner of grotesque creatures he never made and celebrate the fear, which is in total opposition to love! The whole thing is born out of paganism, and bears all the earmarks. It always was the stubborn foothold of pagan celebrations and worship we thought we could just play with like some harmless toy! I know I am starting to sound paranoid at this point, but… but this is reasonable!

What about the principle of eating meat offered to idols? A stronger brother knows the idol is nothing, and it does no harm to his conscience to eat such meat. But there is a love principle which comes in and tempers that. What if a weaker brother who can’t quite live with such a thing sees me eat meat offered to an idol and it causes him to slip down the slope?

But at this point, I don’t know if I am the weak or strong brother? I can’t see any redeeming quality in celebrating Halloween even if I love Jesus and have no desire to betray him. I just want to have a little fun! Right?

Yeah.

I been stuck right about there with Halloween for years. But it didn’t really matter much since I was too old for trick or treating, and I simply don’t get invited to any Halloween dress-up parties. I can simply ignore it, and that of functional reasons independent of any theological issues.

What Do I Do With These Rethoughts?

But now I have kids, kids in school where they do host a Halloween party. And I’m the guy who no longer pledges allegiance to the flag because I would rather devote my allegiance to Jesus and not be confused about it! How do I teach my kids to be true to their beliefs? How do we navigate Halloween? Do I be a fuddy duddy? How does this work?

Well, I have opted not to trouble their minds with this stuff. My seven-year-old isn’t capable of weighing and evaluating these things at all, and the rest are younger than him. But as long as he dresses up like Batman, it’s not devil worship. I’m clear about that. And carving a jack-O-lantern is a must-have experience! But last year, the first year my kids really absorbed the festivities of the holiday, making this year the first year they really anticipate the fun, puts these matters in a new focus for me.

Let me tell you about it (just in case you are still interested).

Rethinking Rethought Thoughts About Halloween

Clearly, I am the sort who gives THOUGHT to such things. Clearly, I am a radical weirdo, and not one of the standard kinds either – a real weird, radical weirdo. And clearly, I give a LOT of thought to image-bearing, Christian theology. Clearly I give a LOT of thought to the homeless and to hospitality as one of the main ways (if not the big ONE itself) for the church to impact the world (and thus the poor too).

I am so weird, even though I live in what has traditionally been a very well established, white, middle-class neighborhood, I ponder frequently how I might make my home stand out as a place of welcome, of genuine welcome, and not some pseudo welcome promoted by a “welcome” mat next to a “no soliciting” sign, an ADT Home Security sign or a Beware of Dog sign. Lots of homes in my hood appear attractive, but between the security cameras, the Neighborhood Watch signs, and all the locked doors with neighbors who rarely (if ever) talk over the back fence, it occurs to me that I am not, in fact, truly welcome in any home but the one where I live.

How would a stranger in need know to knock at MY door?

I have often thought of strategic signs I could put in my yard to subvert the trend. I even thought seriously about putting a park bench out by the sidewalk and maybe a small placard on it instructing a weary soul not only to rest a moment, but to knock and seek comfort and welcome within. How do I buck the trend otherwise? Do I get a neon “Welcome” sign with a small print section that says, “No we REALLY mean it”? (I’d have to fabricate it myself, because I am sure it does not exist.)

Have you ever thought about these things?

Guess you’re not weird. Huh?

Care to give it a try?

Sometime walk out to the curb in front of your house, look back at your door, and imagine Jesus as “one of the least of these brothers” seeking fellowship and a meal among the houses on your street. How would he know to come to your door? Would he need to use his supernatural Devine powers? Would he need to go through trial and error, knocking at every door until he found yours? (Notice, I have assumed you actually want him at all in this scenario.)

And as I walk my own neighborhood this Halloween season, and my little ones I take with me take joy in saying “Hi punkins” to every yard decoration we find, it occurs to me that Halloween, with all it’s “Beware, Go Back” signs ironically breaks through this social barrier! Only skin deep, mind you. I mean front-step deep, but it does welcome strangers, in fact strangers who by virtue of this pagan holiday dress up far stranger than usual!

Spiders are considered pests in most homes, but on Halloween, if I dress up as a very scary and dangerous spider and knock at your door saying, “trick or treat,” you will likely welcome me and give me some candy!

Isn’t THAT ironic!

Only skin deep, but the irony is HUGE!

A redeeming value to this pagan holiday, if ever there was one.

Worth thinking about.

I never thought I would have to formulate the rule: No Screaming During The Prayer. It’s a trip, y’all! I am powerless to enforce it too.

Take in some homeless people, show them a little hospitality, and… well… life ain’t the same no mo….

In our case, they’re urchins. Orphans. Kids the state stripped away from their parents due mostly to drug abuse. And, in our case, we got each of them in infancy.

As infants, they start out pretty much like everyone else. They cry and poop on ya.

“Hi, little homeless person! Welcome to the House of God on 78th Street. We are so glad to have you. God brought you to us, and we love babies. We love you! Ooops! You pooped your little britches. Let me help you with that.”

There are some differences, but mostly they start off about like your own mom-n-dad creations. But over time, the developmental delays, the emotional and psych issues, and the hyperactivity comes through. I’m certain a house full of five babies even considered “normal” make for a more hyperactive home than usual. But we have damaged ceiling fans in nearly every room. Five or six broken windows. Crayola marks all down the hall. And have you ever seen rotten banana bits speckled all over the wall? Looks like monkey-flung poo.

But of course, in the House of God on 78th Street, we routinely pray together over meals and at bedtime. Prayer is the rhythm of our life! As the children learn to speak, they also learn to pray. They become eager to pray, which manifests as competition to pray.

Our prayers are often loud and obnoxious. They tend to be more complaint, cries, and screams than blessings and petitions. We are more medicated than meditative. I can’t hardly get my head around it. To me it’s a bizarre development. I never heard of this before. I don’t know how to manage it. I even feel a bit beat up by it.

But I know this: we got here doing the Lord’s work. This screaming prayer development is the prayer of our broken world, and it is voiced in the House of God on 78th Street.

Please God, hear our cries!

Amen?

In the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 7, Jesus instructs his hearers to ask and receive, seek and find, knock and the door will open.

But either he wasn’t talking about the homeless, or he wasn’t talking about love.

OR, maybe, just maybe, my church ain’t listening to Jesus.

Which is it?

Who among you, Jesus continues, when his child asks will give a stone rather than bread? (Any mention of teaching a man to fish here???) Thus, he concludes, that if we, being evil, know how to give good gifts to our kids, how much more God gives to his!

Stop me when any of this sounds like a soup kitchen. Stop me when this sounds like giving a phone number for a bed in a shelter.

STOP me when it sounds like LOVE and HOSPITALITY.

Who said anything about your kids in this passage? Did someone raise their hand during the sermon and ask, “Yes, Jesus, but what about my kids?”

Nope.

In fact, he was just talking about judging others. Don’t judge others so that you aren’t judged! Why are you worried about a speck in your brother’s eye when you have a log??? And don’t throw your pearls to pigs. Then Jesus himself naturally segues into ask, seek, and knock.

He segues from that right into how you treat your kids, and how God will out give, out love, even what you show to your own children. And that leads to “the Golden Rule” as we call it, treat others the way you want to be treated, because it sums up all the law and the prophets! And this, we know from numerous other passages, is exactly how Jesus talks about LOVE.

And he sums that up with a bit about the narrow gate to life which is hard to find and the wide gate to destruction which many take.

Love, and hospitality (which is a major expression of love in itself).

Stop me if I missed something. Speak up. Argue your case! Please!! Show me where I am wrong!!! Leave a comment and straighten me out. PLEASE!!!

…

…

…

Okay.

So, imagine you are a white, middle-class, American Christian (shouldn’t be hard) listening to Jesus preach this sermon. Next to you is a homeless bum also listening to the very same message. The guy is down and out.

Are you judging him? The measure you use to judge him is the measure by which you are judged. Go look at that passage again carefully. It’s there. He just said it while you coughed or something. So maybe you didn’t quite catch it the first time. Go look. I can wait. Seriously.

Did you look?

Okay. So, are you judging him? Or loving him. Pick a gate.

Let’s move on.

Okay, So, Jesus also preached to ask, seek, and knock. What did the bum hear? What did you hear?

So, if thirty minutes after this sermon you are coming home from church and this bum knocks at your door, are you going to open up to him? Or make Jesus a liar?

Pick a gate.

As you kick off your Sunday shoes and turn on the ball game and your wife heads to the kitchen, your son says he is hungry. What do you say to him? The bum at your door says he is hungry. You being evil know how to give to your son, what about God’s children at your door asking, seeking, and knocking?

Are you going to give him a number to the homeless church across town? Or are you going to LOVE him like you love your son?

Pick a gate.

Can you see what I am saying?

I will have to tell you what I saw this morning. You weren’t there. I was. But I found two homeless men looking street rough out walking the street IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD as I was walking my five little children around for a stroll. Two street homeless men IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD! That was almost completely unheard of until this morning!

We have an “other side of the tracks” in this town, and traditionally THOSE PEOPLE live over THERE, not here. But the times are a changin’. They are hear now too.

And when my dad showed up for worship with us later, he had gone to visit the old church where I am shunned and came in reporting to me they are “studying hospitality” there now.

Ain’t that something?

Is their church house packed?

No. Not even close.

Then what exactly are they studying and calling hospitality and love?

Somebody please straighten me out on this. I just don’t see it.

What do I do when I see two street homeless men on my street? (They didn’t ask or knock … yet.) But what if they do? Which gate should I choose?

Pick a gate.

Boy, I sure thought being white, middle-class and American was where it’s at. But that surely is a wide gate.

Do you remember Coming To America with Eddie Murphy?

Oh, come on. Confess it. You do.

Yes, it has some raunchy dirty parts, but it managed to be mainstream funny in its day.

But do you remember the premise of this story?

Rich guy seeks a woman who LOVES HIM rather than his money. (It can be hard to tell, you know?)

It’s a well-worn, gold-digger theme. I know. But in this story, the prince comes to America pretending to be a commoner so that when he finds a love interest, he can trust her feelings are truly for him and not his wealth. It’s a fairly simple premise.

Got the idea?

Good.

So, then, let me preach to you about contempt, because this isn’t too far removed from the approach God makes with his creation. Our God is love, and that sounds so… well… nice. Doesn’t it? Especially if you like being in love with love. Right?

All you need is love! (Seems like I might’ a hummed that a time or two.)

Yet so many of God’s people (and those not his people too, for that matter) make God out to be something else. And he is. No?

Is God not wise?

Is God not mighty?

Is God not holy?

Hmmm… yes. Yes, he is all of those things too.

And so, some people make discipleship into some erudite pursuit, others expect some grand champion, and others still are running around manipulating goodness in morality and the like. And here comes Jesus, saving a lowly whore caught in the act, seemingly cutting right through all our baggage we haul around in his service.

No?

Is God’s holiness, wisdom, and might of no consequence?

Or…

is God loving us beneath our contempt?

God comes to his own, but his own receive him not. Jesus born in a barn and laid in a manger. The Lord takes a crown on a Roman cross. That’s the creator God’s redemption plan personified. And any pride and/or contempt you have in your heart for God blocks your access to God’s redemption of your own choice.

A baby in a manger?

Man. If you didn’t have parents, grandparents, and a rich faith heritage beyond them celebrating that, would you really be convinced that’s God?

Really?

No. Be honest now.

Really?

So, if a bum knocks at your door off his psych meds claiming he’s Jesus, how will you treat him?

What if a baby shows up at our southern border wading across a razor wire infested river?

Got love for LOVE still?

Or contempt?

Ready to rethink love?