INTRODUCTION:1. The ancestors of Jesus. Story after story marked by scandal, stumble, and intrigue. Who are these people? Us. That’s who they are. We find our stories in theirs. We find our hope where they found theirs. In the midst of them all . . . hovering over them all . . . is the hero of it all: God. Maker. Shaper. Rescuer of sinking hearts. God. Passing out high callings, second chances, and moral compasses to all comers and takers. To Moses—who murdered; Samson—who slipped; Thomas—who second-guessed God; to John the Baptist—who dressed like a caveman and had the diet of a grizzly bear.
2. We offer these pages to you on the wings of a wonderful promise: if God can find a place for these characters . . . he just might have a place for us too. A jewel of a verse from the book of Hebrews implies as much. Jesus, who makes people holy, and those who are made holy are from the same family. So he is not ashamed to call them his brothers and sisters. He says, . . . “I am here, and with Me are the children God has given Me” (Hebrews 2:11–13).
3. The passage has the feel of a family reunion photo. An assemblage of aunts, uncles, cousins, and kin, gathered for a wedding, summer picnic, or holiday. All the curious characters of the family are present. A drifter, a drunk, the uncle who never grew up, and the aunt who never shuts up. The cousin with the police record and the grandpa with the salty language. Joseph in his Egyptian garb and his father, Jacob, with the darting eyes. Uncle Laban and King David. Everyone is here—including Jesus. He sits smack dab in the middle of them, smiling like the proud papa he is. “I am here, and with Me are the children God has given Me”.
Do you see your face in the photo? I hope you do . . . you’re in it. And He’s proud of you too.
CHAPTER 1: JOSEPH
(JOSEPH'S PRAYER)
{Matt 1:18-25}
1. The child is Yours. The plan is Yours. The idea is Yours. And forgive me for asking but . . . is this how God enters the world? The coming of the angel, I’ve accepted. The questions people asked about the pregnancy, I.can tolerate. The trip to Bethlehem, fine. But why a birth in a stable, God?
This time I’m not the builder, am I? This time I’m a tool. A ham-mer in Your grip. A nail between Your fingers. A chisel in Your hands. This project is Yours, not mine.
2. You’ve stood where Joseph stood. Caught between what God says and what makes sense. You’ve done what he told you to do only to wonder if it was Him speaking in the first place. You’ve stared into a sky blackened with doubt. And you’ve asked what Joseph asked. You’ve asked if you’re still on the right road. You’ve asked if you were supposed to turn left when you turned right. And you’ve asked if there is a plan behind this scheme. Things haven’t turned out like you thought they would.
3. If you are asking what Joseph asked, let me urge you to do what Joseph did. Obey. That’s what he did. He obeyed. He obeyed when the angel called. He obeyed when Mary explained. He obeyed when God sent. He was obedient to God. He was obedient when the sky was bright. He was obedient when the sky was dark. He didn’t let his confusion disrupt his obedience. He didn’t know everything. But he did what he knew. He shut down his business, packed up his family, and went to another country. Why? Because that’s what God said to do.
4. What about you? Just like Joseph, you can’t see the whole picture. Just like Joseph your task is to see that Jesus is brought into your part of your world. And just like Joseph you have a choice: to obey or disobey. Because Joseph obeyed, God used him to change the world. Can He do the same with you?
God still looks for Josephs today. Men and women who believe that God is not through with this world. Common people who serve an uncommon God. Will you be that kind of person? Will you serve . . . even when you don’t understand?
5. There are many questions about the Bible that we won’t be able to answer until we get home. Many knotholes and snapshots. Many times we will muse, “I wonder . . .”. But in our wonderings, there are some questions we never need to ask. Does God care? Do we matter to God? Does He still love His children?
Through the small face of the stable-born baby, He says yes.
Yes, your sins are forgiven.
Yes, your name is written in heaven.
Yes, death has been defeated.
And yes, God has entered your world.
Immanuel. God is with us.
CHAPTER 2: MATTHEW
(FRIEND OF FLOPS)
{Matt 9:9-13 NLT}
1. Matthew must have been ripe. Jesus hardly had to tug. Within a punctuation mark, Matthew’s shady friends and Jesus’ green followers are swapping e-mail addresses. “Then Levi gave a big dinner for Jesus at his house. Many tax collectors and other people were eating there, too” (Luke 5:29).
2. Sinners and saints in the same room, and no one’s trying to determine who is which. But an hour or so into the evening the door opens, and an icy breeze blows in. “The Pharisees and the men who taught the law for the Pharisees began to complain to Jesus’ followers, ‘Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?’” (Luke 5:30). Jesus intervenes, explaining that Matthew is right where he needs to be. “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent” (vv. 31–32 NLT).
3. Matthew goes from double-dealer to disciple. He throws a party that makes the religious right uptight, but Christ proud. The good guys look good, and the bad guys hit the road. Some story indeed. What do we do with it? That depends on which side of the tax collector’s table you find yourself. You and I are Matthew. Maybe you’ve never taken taxes, but you’ve taken liberty with the truth, taken credit that wasn’t yours, taken advantage of the weak. You and me? Matthew. If you’re still at the table, you receive an invitation. “Follow Me”. So what if you’ve got a rube reputation? So did Matthew. You may end up writing your own gospel. If you’ve left the table, you receive a clarification. You don’t have to be weird to follow Jesus. You don’t have to stop liking your friends to follow Him. Just the opposite. A few introductions would be nice.
Discipleship is sometimes defined by being normal.
CHAPTER 3: WOMAN WHO WASHED JESUS' FEET
(THE 7:47 PRINCIPLE)
{Luke 7:36-39, 47, NLT}
1. One of the lessons Simon learned that day was this: Don’t think thoughts you don’t want Jesus to hear. For Jesus heard them, and when He did, He chose to share a few of His own. "You didn’t greet Me with a kiss, but from the time I first came in, she has not stopped kissing My feet. You neglected the courtesy of olive oil to anoint My head, but she has anointed My feet with rare perfume. I tell you, her sins—and they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown Me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love” (Luke 7:44–47 NLT).
2. Simon does nothing to make Jesus feel welcome. The woman, however, does everything that Simon didn’t. We aren’t told her name. Just her reputation—a sinner. A prostitute most likely. She has no invitation to the party and no standing in the community. But people’s opinions didn’t stop her from coming. It’s not for them she has come. It’s for Him. Her every move is measured and meaningful. Each gesture extravagant. She puts her cheek to His feet, still dusty from the path. She has no water, but she has tears. She has no towel, but she has her hair. She uses both to bathe the feet of Christ. As one translation reads, “she rained tears” on His feet (v. 44 MSG). She opens a vial of perfume, perhaps her only possession of worth, and massages it into His skin. The aroma is as inescapable as the irony.
3. What one treasure does she cherish that Simon doesn’t? Simple. God’s love. We don’t know when she received it. We aren’t told how she heard about it. But we know this. She came thirsty. Thirsty from guilt. Thirsty from regret. Thirsty from countless nights of making love and finding none. She came thirsty. And when Jesus hands her the goblet of grace, she drinks. She drinks until every inch of her soul is moist and soft. She comes thirsty and she drinks. She drinks deeply.
4. Simon, on the other hand, doesn’t even know he is thirsty. People like Simon don’t need grace; they analyze it. They don’t request mercy; they debate and prorate it. It wasn’t that Simon couldn’t be forgiven; he just never asks to be. So while she drinks up, he puffs up. While she has ample love to give, he has no love to offer. Why? The 7:47 Principle. Read again verse 47 of chapter 7: “A person who is forgiven little shows only little love”. Just like the aircraft, this truth can lift you to another level. Read it one more time. “A person who is forgiven little shows only little love”. In other words, we can’t give what we’ve never received. If we’ve never received love, how can we love others?
Could it be that the secret to loving is receiving? You give love by first receiving it. “We love, because He first loved us” (1 John 4:19 NASB).
5. Replace the word love in I Corinthians 13:4-8 with Jesus' name. "Jesus is patient, Jesus is kind. Jesus does not envy, He does not boast, He is not proud. Jesus is not rude, He is not self-seeking, He is not easily angered, He keeps no record of wrongs. Jesus does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Jesus always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Jesus never fails". Rather than let this scripture remind us of a love we cannot produce, let it remind us of a love we cannot resist—God’s love.
Please listen to heaven’s answer. God loves you. Personally. Powerfully. Passionately. Others have promised and failed. But God has promised and succeeded. He loves you with an unfailing love. And His love—if you will let it—can fill you and leave you with a love worth giving. So come. Come thirsty and drink deeply.
CHAPTER 4: MEPHIBOSHETH
(THE PRIVILEGE OF PAUPERS)
{2 Sam 4:4, 9:3-11}
1. God welcomes us to His table by virtue of His love and our request. It is not our offerings that grant us a place at the feast; indeed, anything we bring appears puny at His table. Our admission of hunger is the only demand, for “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled” (Matt. 5:6 NKJV). Our hunger, then, is not a yearning to be avoided but rather a God-given desire to be heeded. Our weakness is not to be dismissed but to be confessed.
“When we were unable to help ourselves, at the right time, Christ died for us, although we were living against God. Very few people will die to save the life of someone else. Although perhaps for a good person someone might possibly die. But God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners” (Rom. 5:6–8).
2. But such words were never spoken. David’s only response was, “Where is this son?” (v. 4). This son. One wonders how long it had been since Mephibosheth was referred to as a son. Like a pesky sibling, your past follows you wherever you go. Isn’t there anyone who sees you for who you are and not what you did? Yes. There is One who does. Your King. When God speaks of you, He doesn’t mention your plight, pain, or problem; He lets you share His glory. He calls you His child.
Are you aware that the most repeated command from the lips of Jesus was, “Fear not”? Are you aware that the command from heaven not to be afraid appears in every book of the Bible?
3. You possess (get this!) every spiritual blessing possible. “In Christ, God has given us every spiritual blessing in the heavenly world” (Eph. 1:3). This is the gift offered to the lowliest sinner on earth. Who could make such an offer but God? “From Him we all received one gift after another” (John 1:16).
Like Mephibosheth, we are sons of the King. And like me in Miami, our greatest offering is peanuts compared to what we are given.
CHAPTER 5: SAMARITAN WOMAN
(TWO TOMBSTONES)
{John 4:6–7, 9–19, 25–26, 28–29 NLT}
1. Sleeps, but rests not.
Loved, but was loved not.
Tried to please, but pleased not.
Died as she lived—alone.
Words of futility. I wondered why some lives are so fruitful while others are so futile.
2. That’s why the story you are about to read is significant. It’s the story of another tombstone. This time, however, the tombstone doesn’t mark the death of a person—it marks the birth. Her eyes squint against the noonday sun. Her shoulders stoop under the weight of the water jar. Her feet trudge, stirring dust on the path. She keeps her eyes down so she can dodge the stares of the others. She is a Samaritan; she knows the sting of racism. She is a woman; she’s bumped her head on the ceiling of sexism. She’s been married to five men. Five. Five different marriages. Five different beds. Five different rejections. She knows the sound of slamming doors.
3. She came to the well at noon. She expected silence. She expected solitude. Instead, she found One who knew her better than she knew herself. Sensing her discomfort, Jesus asked her for water. But she was too streetwise to think that all He wanted was a drink. “Since when does an uptown fellow like you ask a girl like me for water?” She wanted to know what He really had in mind. Her intuition was partly correct. He was interested in more than water. He was interested in her heart. They talked. Who could remember the last time a man had spoken to her with respect? He told her about a spring of water that would quench not the thirst of the throat, but of the soul.
4. The most important phrase in the chapter is one easily overlooked. “The woman left her water jar beside the well and ran back to the village, telling everyone, ‘Come and see a Man who told me everything I ever did! Could He possibly be the Messiah?’” (John 4:28–29 NLT). Did you notice what she forgot? She forgot her water jar. She left behind the jug that had caused the sag in her shoulders. She left behind the burden she brought. Suddenly the shame of the tattered romances disappeared. Suddenly the insignificance of her life was swallowed by the significance of the moment. “God is here! God has come! God cares . . . for me!
5. The disciples offered Jesus some food. He refused it—He was too excited! He had just done what He does best. He had taken a life that was drifting and given it direction. He was exuberant! “Look!” He announced to disciples, pointing at the woman who was running to the village. “Vast fields of human souls are ripening all around us, and are ready now for the reaping” (John 4:35 TLB). Who could eat at a time like this?
6. An earnest prayer that a good God in heaven would remember a forgotten soul on earth. A prayer that God’s grace would seep into the cracks and cover one the church let slip through. A prayer to take a life that no one else could use and use it as no one else could. Not a prayer from a pulpit, but one from a bed in a convalescent home. Not a prayer prayed confidently by a black-robed seminarian, but one whispered fearfully by a recovering alcoholic.
7. There are two graves in this chapter. The first is the lonely one in the Locke Hill Cemetery. The grave of Grace Llewellen Smith. She knew not love. She knew not gratification. She knew only the pain of the chisel as it carved this epitaph into her life.
Sleeps, but rests not.
Loved, but was loved not.
Tried to please, but pleased not.
Died as she lived—alone.
That, however, is not the only grave in this story. The second is near a water well. The tombstone? A water jug. A forgotten water jug. It has no words, but has great significance—for it is the burial place of insignificance.
CHAPTER 6: MARY, MARTHA, AND LAZARUS
(YOUR PLACE IN GOD'S BAND)
{John 12:2-3}
Not necessarily what you would describe as a call from God, but it wasn’t a wasted experience either.
1. Flute and trumpets sound very different. The flute whispers. The trumpet shouts. The flute comforts. The trumpet bugles. There’s nothing like a trumpet—in limited dosages. A person can only be blasted at for so long. After a while you need to hear something softer. Something sweeter. You need to hear a little flute. But even the sound of the flute can go flat if there is no rhythm or cadence. That’s why you also need the drum. But what band would want to be without a bass drum or flute or trumpet? Get the idea? The operative word is need. They need each other.
By themselves they make music. But together, they make magic.
2. What I saw two decades ago in the band, I see today in the church. We need each other. Not all of us play the same instrument. Some believers are lofty, and others are solid. Some keep the pace while others lead the band. Not all of us make the same sound. Some are soft, and others are loud. And not all of us have the same ability. Some need to be on the fifty yard line raising the flag. Others need to be in the background playing backup. But each of us has a place. Some play the drums (like Martha). Some play the flute (like Mary). And others sound the trumpet (like Lazarus).
Each one fulfilled that purpose in his or her unique manner. Martha served; she always kept everyone in step. Mary worshiped; she anointed her Lord with an extravagant gift, and its aroma filled the air. Lazarus had a story to tell, and he was ready to tell it.
Three people, each one with a different skill, a different ability.
3. Every church needs a hundred Marthas. Sleeves rolled and ready, they keep the pace for the church. Because of Marthas, the church budget gets balanced, the church babies get bounced, and the church building gets built. You don’t appreciate Marthas until a Martha is missing, and then all the Marys and Lazaruses are scrambling around looking for the keys and the thermostats and the overhead projectors. Marthas are the Energizer bunnies of the church. They keep going and going and going. They store strength like a camel stores water. Since they don’t seek the spotlight, they don’t live off the applause. That’s not to say they don’t need it. They just aren’t addicted to it.
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things. Only one thing is important. Mary has chosen the better thing, and it will never be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41–42).
4. Marys are gifted with praise. They don’t just sing; they worship. They don’t simply attend church; they go to offer praise. They don’t just talk about Christ; they radiate Christ. Marys have one foot in heaven and the other on a cloud. It’s not easy for them to come to earth, but sometimes they need to. Sometimes they need to be reminded that there are bills to be paid and classes to be taught. But don’t remind them too harshly. Flutes are fragile. Marys are precious souls with tender hearts. If they have found a place at the foot of Jesus, don’t ask them to leave. Much better to ask them to pray for you.
Marys need to remember that service is worship. Marthas need to remember that worship is service.
5. Because of Lazarus many Jews were “believing in Jesus”. Lazarus has been given a trumpet. He has a testimony to give—and what a testimony he has! God still gives trumpets. God still calls people from the pits. God still gives pinch-me-I’m-dreaming, too-good-to-be-true testimonies. But not everyone has a dramatic testimony. Who wants a band full of trumpets? Some convert the lost. Some encourage the saved. And some keep the movement in step. All are needed.
6. If God has called you to be a Martha, then serve! Remind the rest of us that there is evangelism in feeding the poor and there is worship in nursing the sick.
If God has called you to be a Mary, then worship! Remind the rest of us that we don’t have to be busy to be holy. Urge us with your example to put down our clipboards and megaphones and be quiet in worship.
If God has called you to be a Lazarus, then testify. Remind the rest of us that we, too, have a story to tell. We, too, have neighbors who are lost. We, too, have died and been resurrected.
7. Each of us has our place at the table. Except one. Though he had been near Jesus longer than any of the others, he was furthest in his faith. His name was Judas. Are you a Judas? I ask the question carefully, yet honestly. Are you near Christ but far from His heart? Are you at the dinner with a sour soul? Are you always criticizing the gifts of others yet seldom, if ever, giving your own? Are you benefiting from the church while never giving to it? Do others give sacrificially while you give miserly? Are you a Judas? Do you take, take, take, and never give? If so, you are the Judas in this story.
If you are a Martha, be strengthened. God sees your service.
If you are a Mary, be encouraged. God receives your worship.
If you are a Lazarus, be strong. God honors your conviction.
But if you are a Judas, be warned. God sees your selfishness.
CHAPTER 7: ABIGAIL
(BARBARIC BEHAVIOR)
{1 Sam. 25:18-25, 32-35, MSG}
Death was still with us—no doubt about that. But we were slowly being freed from its destructive grip. . . . Selfishness, hatred . . . and pride were all anti-life. Love . . . self-sacrifice . . . and faith, on the other hand, were the essence of life . . . gifts of God to men. . . . Death no longer had the last word at Chungkai (Ernest Gordon).
1. The code of the jungle is alive and well. "Every man for himself. Get all you can, and can all you get. Survival of the fittest". Does the code contaminate your world? Do personal possessive pronouns dominate the language of your circle? My career, my dreams, my stuff. I want things to go my way on my schedule. If so, you know how savage this giant can be. Yet, every so often, a diamond glitters in the mud. A comrade shares, a soldier cares, or Abigail, stunning Abigail, stands on your trail.
2. Brains and beauty. Abigail puts both to work. When she learns of Nabal’s crude response, she springs into action. With no word to her husband, she gathers gifts and races to intercept David. As David and his men descend a ravine, she takes her position, armed with “two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five sheep dressed out and ready for cooking, a bushel of roasted grain, a hundred raisin cakes, and two hundred fig cakes, . . . all loaded on some donkeys” (25:18 MSG). Four hundred men rein in their rides. Some gape at the food; others gawk at the female. She’s good lookin’ with good cookin’, a combination that stops any army.
CHAPTER 8: PARALYZED MAN
(BRIGHT LIGHTS ON DARK NIGHTS)
{John 5:1-9}
1. Remember, I told you this story was about us? Remember, I said I found our faces in the Bible? Well, here we are, filling the white space between the letters of verse 5: “A man was lying there who had been sick for thirty-eight years”. Maybe you don’t like being described like that. Perhaps you’d rather find yourself in the courage of David or the devotion of Mary. We all would. But before you or I can be like them, we must admit we are like the paralytic. Invalids out of options. Can’t walk. Can’t work. Can’t care for ourselves. Can’t even roll down the bank to the pool to cash in on the angel water.
2. That’s our predicament: Only the holy will see God. Holiness is a prerequisite to heaven. Perfection is a requirement for eternity. We wish it weren’t so. We act like it isn’t so. We act like those who are “decent” will see God. We suggest that those who try hard will see God. We act as if we’re good if we never do anything too bad. And that goodness is enough to qualify us for heaven. Sounds right to us, but it doesn’t sound right to God. And He sets the standard. And the standard is high. “You must be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).
God has thrown life jackets to every generation.
3. That’s why I say the invalid is you and me. We, like the invalid, are paralyzed. We, like the invalid, are trapped. We, like the invalid, are stuck; we have no solution for our predicament. That’s you and me lying on the ground. That’s us wounded and weary. When it comes to healing our spiritual condition, we don’t have a chance. We might as well be told to pole-vault the moon. We don’t have what it takes to be healed. Our only hope is that God will do for us what he did for the man at Bethesda—that he will step out of the temple and step into our ward of hurt and helplessness.
God’s efforts are strongest when our efforts are useless.
4. “‘Stand up. Pick up your mat and walk’”. “And immediately the man was well; he picked up his mat and began to walk”. Is this your story? It can be. All the elements are the same. A gentle stranger has stepped into your hurting world and offered you a hand. Now it’s up to you to take it.
CHAPTER 9: JOHN
(I CAN TURN YOUR TRAGEDY INTO TRIUMPH)
{John 20:2-8}
1. We all face tragedy. What’s more, we’ve all received the symbols of tragedy. Yours might be a telegram from the war department, an ID brace-let from the hospital, a scar, or a court subpoena. Could God use such things for something good?How far can we go with verses like this one: “In everything God works for the good of those who love Him” (Rom. 8:28)? Does “everything” include tumors and tests and tempers and terminations? John would answer yes.
John didn’t know on that Friday what you and I now know. He didn’t know that Friday’s tragedy would be Sunday’s triumph. John would later confess that he “did not yet understand from the Scriptures that Jesus must rise from the dead” (John 20:9). That’s why what he did on Saturday is so important.
2. You’d think he would have left. Who was to say that the men who crucified Christ wouldn’t come after him? The crowds were pleased with one crucifixion; the religious leaders might have called for more. Why didn’t John get out of town? Perhaps the answer was pragmatic; perhaps he was taking care of Jesus’ mother. Or perhaps he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Could be he didn’t have any money or energy or direction . . . or all of the above. Or maybe he lingered because he loved Jesus. To John, Jesus was a friend.
You don’t abandon a friend—not even when that friend is dead. John stayed close to Jesus.
3. These burial wraps had not been ripped off and thrown down. They were still in their original state! The linens were undisturbed. The graveclothes were still rolled and folded. This was John’s question, and this question led to John’s discovery. “He saw and believed” ( John 20:8). Through the rags of death, John saw the power of life. Odd, don’t you think, that God would use something as sad as a burial wrap to change a life?
Could God do something similar in your life? Could He take what today is a token of tragedy and turn it into a symbol of triumph?
4. The Bible says that “in everything God works for the good of those who love Him”. Before we close this chapter, do this simple exercise. Remove the word everything, and replace it with the symbol of your tragedy. For the apostle John, the verse would read: “In burial clothing God works for the good of those who love Him”.
How would Romans 8:28 read in your life?
In hospital stays God works for the good.
In divorce papers God works for the good.
In a prison term God works for the good.
As hard as it may be to believe, you could be only a Saturday away from a resurrection. You could be only hours from that precious prayer of a changed heart, “God, did you do this for me?”
CHAPTER 10: PAUL
(HIDDEN HEROES)
{Acts 9:3-6, 2 Cor. 11:23-27}
1. Paul doesn’t look like a hero. Doesn’t sound like one either. He introduced himself as the worst sinner in history. He was a Christian-killer before he was a Christian leader. At times his heart was so heavy, Paul’s pen drug itself across the page. “What a miserable man I am! Who will save me from this body that brings me death?” (Rom. 7:24). Only heaven knows how long he stared at the question before he found the courage to defy logic and write, “I thank God for saving me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Rom. 7:25).
2. A hero could be next door and you wouldn’t know it. The fellow who changes the oil in your car could be one. A hero in cover‐alls? Maybe. Maybe as he works he prays, asking God to do with the heart of the driver what he does with the engine. The day-care worker where you drop off the kids? Perhaps. Perhaps her morning prayers include the name of each child and the dream that one of them will change the world. Who’s to say God isn’t listening?
3. Do heroes know when they are heroic?Rarely. Are historic moments acknowledged when they happen? You know the answer to that one. (If not, a visit to the manger will remind you.) We seldom see history in the making, and we seldom recognize heroes. Which is just as well, for if we knew either, we might mess up both. But we’d do well to keep our eyes open. Tomorrow’s Spurgeon might be mowing your lawn. And the hero who inspires him might be nearer than you think. He might be in your mirror.
CHAPTER 11: TWO CRIMINALS
(I WILL LET YOU CHOOSE)
{Luke 23:32-33,39-43}
1. In every age of history, on every page of Scripture, the truth is revealed: God allows us to make our own choices. And no one delineates this more clearly than Jesus. According to Him, we can choose:
a narrow gate or a wide gate (Matt. 7:13–14)
a narrow road or a wide road (Matt. 7:13–14)
the big crowd or the small crowd (Matt. 7:13–14)
build on rock or sand (Matt. 7:24–27)
serve God or riches (Matt. 6:24).
“Then they [those who rejected God] will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life” (Matt. 25:46 NIV).
God gives eternal choices, and these choices have eternal consequences.
2. Isn’t this the reminder of Calvary’s trio? Ever wonder why there were two crosses next to Christ? Why not six or ten? Ever wonder why Jesus was in the center? Why not on the far right or far left? Could it be that the two crosses on the hill symbolize one of God’s greatest gifts? The gift of choice. The two criminals have so much in common. Convicted by the same system. Condemned to the same death. Surrounded by the same crowd. Equally close to the same Jesus. In fact, they begin with the same sarcasm: “The two criminals also said cruel things to Jesus” (Matt. 27:44 CEV). But one changed.
3. Does not the shepherd leave the ninety-nine sheep and pursue the one lost? Does not the housewife sweep the house until the lost coin is found? Yes, the shepherd does, the housewife does, but the father of the prodigal, remember, does nothing. The father gave him the choice. Jesus gave both criminals the same.
There are times when God sends thunder to stir us. There are times when God sends blessings to lure us. But then there are times when God sends nothing but silence as He honors us with the freedom to choose where we spend eternity. And what an honor it is! In so many areas of life we have no choice.
4. Have we been given any greater privilege than that of choice? Not only does this privilege offset any injustice, the gift of free will can offset any mistakes. You’ve made some bad choices in life, haven’t you?You’ve chosen the wrong friends, maybe the wrong career, even the wrong spouse. You look back over your life and say, “If only . . . if only I could make up for those bad choices”. You can. One good choice for eternity offsets a thousand bad ones on earth.
5. How could two men see the same Jesus and one choose to mock Him and the other choose to pray to Him? I don’t know, but they did. And when one prayed, Jesus loved him enough to save him. And when the other mocked, Jesus loved him enough to let him.
He allowed him the choice.
He does the same for you.
CHAPTER 12: MOSES
(THE VOICE FROM THE MOP BUCKET)
{Ex 3:1-6, 9-10}
1. Changing direction in life is not tragic. Losing passion in life is. Something happens to us along the way. Convictions to change the world downgrade to commitments to pay the bills. Rather than make a difference, we make a salary. Rather than look forward, we look back. Rather than look outward, we look inward. And we don’t like what we see.
2. Moses had made a mistake. You remember his story. Adopted nobility. An Israelite reared in an Egyptian palace. His countrymen were slaves, but Moses was privileged. Ate at the royal table. Educated in the finest schools. But his most influential teacher had no degree. She was his mother. A Jewess who was hired to be his nanny. “Moses,” you can almost hear her whisper to her young son, “God has put you here on purpose. Someday you will set your people free. Never forget, Moses. Never forget“.
3. Moses knew he was in trouble. He fled Egypt and hid in the wilderness. Call it a career shift. He went from dining with the heads of state to counting heads of sheep. Moses thought the move was permanent. There is no indication he ever intended to go back to Egypt. In fact, there is every indication he wanted to stay with his sheep. Standing barefoot before the bush, he confessed, “I am not a great man! How can I go to the king and lead the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exod. 3:11).
4. Moses at forty we like. But Moses at eighty? No way. Too old. Too tired. Smells like a shepherd. Speaks like a foreigner. What impact would he have on Pharaoh? He’s the wrong man for the job. But God sent him. How do you figure? What does he know now that he didn’t know then? What did he learn in the desert that he didn’t learn in Egypt? More than the ways of the desert and the people, Moses needed to learn something about himself. Apparently he has learned it. God says Moses is ready.
5. The voice from the bush is the voice that whispers to you. It reminds you that God is not finished with you yet. Oh, you may think He is. You may think you’ve peaked. You may think He’s got someone else to do the job. If so, think again.
“God began doing a good work in you, and I am sure He will continue it until it is finished when Jesus Christ comes again” (Phil. 1:6).
Your Father wants you to know that. And to convince you, He may surprise you. He may speak through a bush, a mop bucket, or stranger still, He may speak through this book.
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