Matthew 9 – They that be whole need not

Imagine you were God.

And you’d come to earth to set up your kingdom.

And you were looking for the right people to help you run it.

I wonder… who would you pick?

Perhaps you’d draw up a list of the qualities you’d hope to find in the ideal candidate:

• Must be religious (non-churchgoers need not apply)
• Must be an acknowledged spiritual leader, pastor and teacher
• Must be devout and pious, a man/woman of prayer
• Must be a well-respected, upstanding, pillar of the community, active in local charities and voluntary organisations
• Must give at least, say, 10% of income to the church
• Must be a non-smoking, non-drinking, non-fornicating, perfect family man/woman

Imagine you lived in first century, Roman-occupied Palestine.

You could’ve probably done a whole lot worse than to select a few interviewees from a certain religious sect, mentioned thirty times in the book of Matthew (on average about once a chapter!), and right there in the thick of it as usual in Matthew chapter 9.

The Pharisees.

Devout; religious; holding to the highest moral standards; popular with the people; exemplifying everything upright and decent, respectable and godly.

The Pharisees were basically a “shoo-in” for the top job, and they knew it.  And it’s quite obvious from their remarks in Matthew 9:11 that they’d already picked-out wallpaper for their new executive offices up on the top floor.

“Here comes the big announcement, guys.  Remember, just act casual, and try to look surprised.  Wait a minute, why is he going over to those publicans and sinners!?”

Imagine their surprise then, when the Chief Executive himself started to call out the names, and amongst them were:

• A paraplegic (Matthew 9:2)
• A social and religious outcast, excommunicated from the synagogue (Matthew 9:9)
• A corpse (Matthew 9:18)
• An “unclean” woman, “polluting” everyone she came into contact with (Matthew 9:20)
• Two blind men (Matthew 9:27)
• And a demon-possessed mute (Matthew 9:32)

And much to the chagrin of the Pharisees, the only qualifications God seemed to be interested in were:

• Sickness – They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick (Matthew 9:12)
• Sin – I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners (Matthew 9:13)

And that desperate, last-ditch, reaching-out-and-clinging-onto-something that Jesus called…

• Faith – Be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole (Matthew 9:22)

Faith?  Sure.  Must be a man/woman of faith.  That would be on anyone’s tick-list.

But, sin?  You’re having a laugh!

And, sickness?  How on earth can sickness qualify anyone for anything!?

Sickness is an aberration, a malfunction, a wrong state of being.

Some people say that the presence of sickness and disease in the world proves that there is no God.  At the other end of the spectrum, some people say that sickness is of the Devil, and it’s not God’s will for anyone to be sick.

If they were still here today, maybe that’s what the Pharisees would say.  Certainly, that’s what some of Jesus’ disciples seemed to be saying, when they asked him whose sins were to blame for a man’s lifelong blindness (John 9:2).

Jesus’ terse response to all such thinking is simply, “Only the sick man has need of a doctor.”

Perhaps it’s also true to say that only the sick man is aware of the “wrongness” of his situation, of the “wrongness” at the very heart of the human condition.

When a chronic depressive turns back the sheets on a bright new day, and the morning lies before him like an unbearable weight, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him that something’s not quite right with the world.

And as paradoxical as it may seem, that sense of “wrongness”, that sense of “need”, is the only true gateway to God, and the ultimate “rightness” of perfect “oneness” with him.

Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (Matthew 19:24).

And for a man who possesses all of life’s riches, in health, wealth, talent and temperament, position and popularity, how difficult it is to see more than two feet beyond those dazzling, all-consuming blessings, which unfortunately, like the proverbial “all good things”, must one day come to an end.

How perverse is human nature, when the more blessed we are, the more difficult it becomes to see the wood for the trees – to see the one, true blessing, which lies at the root of all blessings – the blessing of possessing God himself, and with him, all things.

How difficult it is for the little “Pharisee” in me, with all his comfortable respectability, his cold religiosity, his all-important social standing, to reach out, as the woman of Matthew 9:20 reached out – to reach out with nothing to lose, nothing to offer, nothing more to give – to reach out with hands that were empty enough to take hold of what so many in the crowd were too “heavy laden” to carry – to reach out “having nothing, and yet possessing all things” (2 Corinthians 6:10).

In one of Aesop’s fables, the North Wind and the Sun had a competition to decide which of them was the strongest.  They agreed that whoever first succeeded in making a passing traveller take off his cloak would be declared the winner.  The more the North Wind blew, the more the traveller wrapped his cloak around him, the more tightly he clutched it to his chest.  Only in the warming rays of the Sun did the traveller finally relax his grip, and let the now-superfluous cloak fall from his shoulders.

Sickness.

It can bend you.  It can twist you.

It can crush you.

But how perverse is human nature – in the warm sunshine of blessing, God so easily becomes “superfluous”, an unnecessary burden, just an extra weight to be carried on the road; whilst in the howling gale of sickness, the stricken traveller needs no encouragement to reach out for something – anything – to shield him from the blast; he needs no encouragement to reach for that once-burdensome “cloak”, to wrap it firmly around his shoulders, to clutch it tightly to his chest, to cling onto it with all his might.

Perhaps Paul said it best.

Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me

(2 Corinthians 12:9).

Matthew 8 – Pressed on every side

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

Paul certainly did (see 2 Corinthians 1:8 and 4:8).

And so did Jesus.

At the beginning of Matthew 8, we find him mobbed by “great multitudes”; but it’s perhaps informative that although crowds of people pressed him on every side, the only one to really “touch” him was a solitary leper, crying out from a socially-acceptable distance, well beyond the edge of the throng.

In verse 5, we find Jesus retreating to Capernaum, and seeking brief respite from his public ministry in the privacy of Peter’s home…

But en route: a centurion, “beseeching him”…

Awaiting him at the house: Peter’s mother-in-law, lying “sick of a fever”…

And by evening, word of his whereabouts begins to reach the crowds; and again they come.

And again, upon himself, he “takes their infirmities” and “bares their sicknesses” (verse 17)…

And again, he is forced to move on.

As Jesus prepares to board a boat bound for the far shore of the Sea of Galilee, an earnest young scribe comes breathlessly pledging to follow him anywhere – to the ends of the earth if need be!  And is that a trace of irony in Jesus’ response, or am I perhaps just projecting my own feelings onto him?

“Follow me anywhere, would you?  And yet, truly, I alone, in all of creation, have nowhere I can go.  Truly, I alone have nowhere to lay my head.”

So, in verse 24 we find him huddled in the bottom of the boat, and sleeping the sleep of the bone-weary.  Did he know what awaited him on the other shore, I wonder? – Pigs, and tombs, and demons, and indignant locals, requesting him to kindly stay away.

And then, as though even nature itself was determined not to give the poor guy a break, as though even God himself was against him…

8:24 …behold, there arose a great tempest in the sea, insomuch that the ship was covered with the waves…

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

Jesus certainly did.

And the question that always seems to spring so readily to mind is… why?  I don’t ask God for any special favours, or any special treatment, but if he can’t bring himself to help me, couldn’t he at least stop putting extra obstacles in my way!?

Why?  It’s hard to find an answer when you’re hunkered down in the bottom of your boat.  But the answer Paul found is recorded in his second letter to the Corinthians…

1:8 For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us in Asia, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life:

1:9 But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead:

Humanly, Jesus was utterly spent, “poured out like water” (Psalm 22:14), exhausted enough to sleep through a howling gale, and then barely bat an eyelid as the waves crashed over the sides of the ship and the cold seawater sloshed all around his soggy, makeshift bed.

But it wasn’t human frailty that “arose” from the bottom of the boat.  It wasn’t human weakness that “rebuked” the winds and the sea.  It was impossible for the incessant turmoil of human life to bring forth such a “great calm” (Matthew 8:26).

In Jesus was something “un-crushable”, inexhaustible, indomitable.  Beyond and above his frail human flesh was something rock-solid and unshakable.  As though his humanity was just the tip of a gigantic iceberg, the visible pinnacle of a towering mountain of divine strength.

Do you know how it feels to be pressed on every side?

In Christ, you are a “partaker” of the same “divine nature” that dwelt within him (2 Peter 1:4).  Perhaps, as Paul says, it’s time to stop trusting in yourself; perhaps it’s time to let those things that press, press through the brittle crust of your humanity, so that you can start plumbing the unfathomable depths of God – those hidden depths of divine “life, and health, and peace”, which were there all along, did you but know it, lying just beneath the surface.

Matthew 7 – Beached

7:13 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:

7:14 Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

7:24 Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:

7:26 And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:

Hello there!

My name’s Sandy Broad, and I’m here today to tell you about Broadway Bay Developments – the place where you can live like a star, right here on the beach – the place where you can build your own little piece of heaven, right here on the beautiful, golden sand.

But, listen folks, I don’t expect you to just take my word for it – that’s why I’ve invited a few friends along to help me paint you a picture of what life’s really like here at Broadway Bay.

So, first of all, please put your hands together and let’s give a big Broadway Bay welcome to, Mr David Soulful...  Come on up here, Davie!

Now, when David came to Broadway Bay back in the summer of ’69, little did he know that he was about to begin a kind of journey – a spiritual journey of self-discovery that would change the course of his life forever.

You see, in my humble opinion, David is one of our nation’s most gifted singer-songwriters, and when he first came to Broadway Bay, well in a way, it was like coming home to a place he’d never been before.  For the first time, out at Introspection Point, Davie found a place where he could truly explore his innermost feelings, his most deeply-felt emotions – a place where he could, in his own words, “sing the slowly turning pain of this poor heart of mine”.

So at Introspection Point, we built Davie a house – and much more than a house.  Because, in truth, the house was just a focal point, a fulcrum, around which David could build his whole life – a channel, through which David could pour out his whole life in poetry and song.

And speaking of which… we do have a few copies of David’s new album, My Poor Sad Sweet Self, which you’ll be able to purchase at the back of the hall, right after this presentation.

So let’s hear it one more time folks, for Mr David Soulful!

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to another good friend of mine... Mr J. B. Walton aaaaaaaaand family!

Come on up here, JB!  Come on up here, Mrs W!  Come on up here, kids!

I’m sure JB won’t mind me telling you that he had the most miserable childhood you could ever imagine – the only child of an only child – no-one knows how many long, lonely nights he spent sitting in front of a TV set, dreaming of the idyllic family life he saw portrayed there.

But here at Broadway Bay, we’re in the business of making dreams come true.  And JB will tell you, that’s exactly what we did for him all those years ago, when we moved JB, and his lovely new wife Loretta, into one of the wonderful family homes, in the wonderful family neighbourhood, of Scant Comfort Cove.

I tell you, we must be doing something right, because Loretta’s expecting number nine in the fall, and their eldest, JB Junior, is hoping to make JB a granddaddy, just in time for Christmas!

And you know folks, when I asked JB what the best thing is about family life here in Broadway Bay, do you know what he told me?  He told me, “Sandy, you’ve heard it said that when a father dies, he lives on in his children?”

Then, he just put one of those great big hands of his on my shoulder, and with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Well, Sandy, I intend to live on an awful looong time!”

That’s right!  Give it up folks, for the Walton family!

All right now.  There’s just one more guest I’d like you all to meet – a very special guest, and a very special friend… please welcome with me, the Reverend Slim Veneer!

Come on up here, Rev!

I guess there’s not a man, woman or child who’s not heard of the Free Assemblies of Broadway Bay, the Reverend’s flourishing church, which we locals like to simply and affectionately call, the FABB Fellowship.  The Rev tells me that he’s now laying-on up to five back-to-back services every Sunday, just to accommodate his ever-growing congregation!

But what not everyone may be aware of is that just a few short years ago, FABB was anything but “fabulous”.  For instance, when Rev Veneer first arrived at Broadway Bay, the entire congregation of the FABB Fellowship would have easily fitted into the Ping-Pong room of today’s church!

The Rev was simply appalled by the lack of purpose, drive and ambition he found amongst god’s own people – people who were seemingly content to worship in a building that, for all intents and purposes, had scarcely changed since their great-grandfathers worshipped there!

But, within just eighteen months of the Rev’s arrival, the old church had been demolished, and the foundations were already being laid for the gigantic church mega-plex you see today, with its twenty-five thousand seat auditorium, its giant fifty-foot TV screen (which ensures folks at the back don’t miss any of the platform-action!), its cafes, its conference suites, its fully-equipped gym, sauna and health spa – not to mention the mini-mall and twelve-lane bowling alley the Rev recently submitted plans for!

But I guess, for me, what exemplifies Reverend Veneer, and the whole FABB project, is that they’ve taken what to many is just a prayer, and turned it into a statement of intent.  Because at FABB, it’s not just, “Thy kingdom come” – sometime, anytime, never; it’s, “Together, we can build it!” – a kingdom of decency, prosperity, and good old-fashioned neighbourliness, right here in Broadway Bay!

So let’s just thank the Reverend for his incredibly precious time, folks; and if there are any questions, I’d be pleased to take one or two right now…

Yes, thank you – the gentleman in the garish spotted tie.  Do you have a question, sir?

Yes.  Delvin Debree of the Bay Chronicle.  Isn’t it true, Mr Broad, that there’s been something of an exodus from Broadway Bay in recent weeks – bay residents just upping sticks and joining the small, ramshackle communities that’ve grown-up on the slopes of Narroway Ridge?

Well now, Mr… Debree, is it?  I don’t know where you people get your information from, but I do believe that if you check your sources you’ll find that the only people who’ve left Broadway Bay recently are the kind of people that, quite frankly, we’re not too sorry to see the back of!  And if a bunch of bums, winos, and floozies want to drag their pitiful hides up that narrow, death-trap of a road, and set-up house on that God-forsaken rock… well, I don’t think too many people will be shedding a tear down here, on the beautiful beaches of Broadway Bay.

Narroway Ridge!?  What kind of a place is that to raise a family?  My God, it doesn’t even have a sea-view!

Narroway Ridge!?  I’ll tell you something about Narroway Ridge: I was up there hunting deer a few weeks ago, and do you know what the road-sign says?  Well, I’ll tell you what it says: it says…

Welcome to

NARROWAY RIDGE

Population:  “Few there be”

In Friendship With:  “The poor in spirit”

Matthew 6 – A thoughtless way of life

“Take no thought for your life,” says Jesus.  “The birds don’t save for a rainy day, they don’t have pension schemes or life insurance policies, but still God feeds them – and if he feeds the birds, don’t you think he’ll feed you?” (Matthew 6:26).

“Take no thought for your life,” says Jesus.  “The dandelions don’t arrange overdrafts or run up credit card bills, but just look at them!” he laughs.  “Doesn’t God clothe them in the season’s brightest, brashest fashions?  And if he so handsomely clothes the weeds in your lawn, don’t you think he’ll clothe you?” (Matthew 6:28-30).

These verses from Matthew 6 (even in their horrendously paraphrased forms!) have always struck a chord with me.  They are words to the worrier; words to the anxious; words to the restless; words to the insecure – and maybe that in itself speaks volumes about me!

But, be that as it may, there’s no denying the power these words have to comfort and reassure those “thorny ground” types like me, who so often let the cares of life, and the deceitfulness of prosperity, choke them like thorns (Matthew 13:22).

So why then do I suddenly find myself casting a sceptical eye over Jesus’ exhortation to “take no thought” for my life?  Where are the comfort and reassurance I expect to find there?  Why do his words suddenly strike such a hollow note with me?

Perhaps it’s just that I’m in danger of turning, somewhat prematurely, into a grumpy, world-weary, old man!  Perhaps it’s just that I’ve seen, a few too many times, the way bad stuff happens to good people – to people that I love.  And, whether I like it or not, experience tells me that God doesn’t always “feed” and “clothe” us – he doesn’t always write a blank cheque to cover all our material needs.

“If God feeds the birds,” says Jesus, “don’t you think he’ll feed you?”

But just the other day, I opened my front door and found the remains of a young blackbird, delivered directly to my doorstep, by the neighbourhood’s ever-efficient feline courier service.

“If God clothes the weeds,” says Jesus, “don’t you think he’ll clothe you?”

But just the other day, I heard reports that wildfires across Scotland, triggered by the unseasonably dry weather, had destroyed acres of ancient Caledonian pine forest, and dozens of irreplaceable bird nesting sites.

Needless to say, birds, at times, do go hungry – and even those irritatingly resilient dandelions in my lawn, that mock all my best efforts to defeat them, have started to droop a little lately for want of a drop of rain!

So, like it or not, the harsh reality is that God doesn’t always “feed” and “clothe” the birds and the beasts – nor does he always “feed” and “clothe” us.  Even Paul, who had the kind of intimacy with God I could only dream of, at times went hungry and without decent clothing...

Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst, and are naked, and are buffeted, and have no certain dwellingplace. (1 Corinthians 4:11)

Why this should be is a question for far wiser men than me.  Why there is hunger, and disease, and pain, and suffering in the world is an age-old question best left for philosophers and theologians to ponder, and endlessly debate.

What’s more, I know I’d be doing Jesus a great disservice if I were to imply that he was either ignorant or indifferent to the reality of human suffering – or even animal suffering for that matter.  After all, in Matthew 10:29, didn’t he say that not one sparrow, falling to the ground, is beneath God’s attention?

And, now that I think about it, if we did live in a world without tears, and troubles, and tragedy, what would be the point of telling us to “take no thought” for our lives?!  The fact is, in a world like that, in a world of guaranteed health and wealth and happiness, no-one would be giving their “lives”, their welfare, their security, a second thought.  In a way, far from detracting from Jesus’ message, the very presence of suffering in the world is actually what gives his message its meaning.

So just what exactly was Jesus getting at then, when he implored us – not once, not twice, but three times, in the space of just a few verses –to “take no thought” for our lives (Matthew 6:25, 31 and 34)?

Well, because life is so fragile, so fickle, so full of uncertainty, no wonder people are always “taking thought” for tomorrow, obsessing about the future, crossing bridges before they come to them, and looking for storms in every teacup; no wonder people can become so easily fixated on anything, and everything, that gives them even the vaguest sense of control over what will always be, for the most part, “uncontrollable”.  I guess, in the end, what we’re all looking for is a little “solidity”, a little “permanence” – just one little corner of our lives that we can rely on and call our own.

But what I might call taking a natural interest in my future happiness and my long-term security, Jesus simply calls laying up for yourself treasure on earth – and where “treasure” is concerned, “earth” will only ever be one thing: a place “where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal” (Matthew 6:19).

And this, I’m afraid, is the crux of the matter: every thought we “take” for our lives is a thought that is squandered on something that never can be, and was never intended to be, anything other than “temporary”, “transitory”, and oh so terribly brief.  If this is indeed our “treasure”, then we really are “of all men most miserable” (1 Corinthians 15:19).

But there is another kind of treasure, hidden within the crumbling “earthen vessel” (2 Corinthians 4:7) of our lives: God himself – his very life, his very essence – “an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away” (1 Peter 1:4) – the very life of God, “made manifest in our mortal flesh” (2 Corinthians 4:11).  This is the “pearl of great price”; this is the treasure worth selling all to possess (Matthew 13:46).

So when Jesus said “take no thought for your life”, he said it with his eyes wide open; he said it looking life, with all its indiscriminate suffering and crippling anxiety, full in the face; he said it with eyes that saw, even in the most tragic circumstances, and the most unbearable situations, a hidden “treasure”, untarnished and untouched, by all that life could throw at him.

God grant us all the grace to lead such a “thoughtless” way of life, and walk like Jesus, calm and collected, upon these constantly churning waters of our lives.