The 'Jesus Revolution'
I don’t often watch movies on the big screen, but not long ago I watched Jesus Revolution at the Cinemax. I enjoyed the movie, and I was deeply moved by the story line. It made me wonder how a ‘Jesus Revolution’ might be received today. It is easy while we are sitting in a movie theater to cheer for the underdog and to think we would respond just like Pastor Chuck Smith and welcome and support the hippie-street-preacher.
But the movement and the people might look a little different in our current culture than it did in the 60’s and 70’s. While we might all rejoice in the Asbury revival, and recognize the Holy Spirit working there, we might be surprised at some of the individual stories that came out of that movement. And would we recognize a ‘Jesus Revolution’ in movements like Revoice? Could we welcome and love those who are just as different from us as those in the hippie movement were from the generations that went before them? Do we really believe that those who look different and express themselves differently can love Jesus just as much as we do? What if they say they love Jesus, are celibate and single, and yet still call themselves gay? Do we truly believe that Jesus can transform those who have been broken by drugs and mental illness, the underprivileged and poor, the lonely and lost, the prostitute and the homeless? And what if transformation doesn’t make them look like us? Can they be just as righteous? Do we still welcome them, feed them, fellowship with them, and love them?
The Ministry of Jesus
Jesus began his ministry by reading from the prophet Isaiah.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”
Then he said, “Today this scripture is full filled in your hearing.” ~Luke 4:18, 19, & 21
Jesus came to heal the broken-hearted. He came for the captives and the out casts. He came for those living on the fringes of society. This is so clearly evident in the gospels, but particularly in the gospel of Luke who recorded many of the parables told by Jesus.
I think when we read the gospels, we like to identify with the tax collectors and Samaritans, and with Mary and the other faithful women who followed him. We like to cheer for the underprivileged and identify with the oppressed. We rarely think of ourselves as the Pharisees – or at least I don’t. But we forget that those of us raised in the church who are perhaps the third or fourth or fifth generation Christian in our white middle-class American family, are far closer in cultural status to the Pharisee than we are to the tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritan’s, and sinners.
A Revolutionary Encounter
A couple of years ago I had the privilege of visiting with three women at a park not far from where I work. I was there alone after work walking around the park, and as the path passed close to them, I stopped and introduced myself. I had thought I might offer to pray with them and perhaps offer them some words of encouragement. Their skin was a different color than mine, they were dressed differently, their profession was different, and their social status was probably a little different too, but they welcomed me, and I sat and talked to them awhile.
At first, I offered to pray with them, but they politely declined to pray right then and simply said I could remember them in my prayers whenever it was that I prayed. As we talked, I recognized my superior, self-righteous attitude, and I was deeply saddened by the posture of my own heart. I’m sure my attitude was clear to them too, and I was humbled by their openness and their willingness to welcome me anyway.
We talked about ordinary things that we had in common- our children and the men who had once been part of our lives; the beauty of the park and beauty we had seen and experienced in our life; and the difficulties of singleness. As we talked, the barriers and differences between us diminished and I left wishing I could stay longer and share more of my own story with these women who I feel would have held it with grace.
Although our paths have not crossed again, I still remember their names and their stories. I gave nothing to these women except portions of my own story, but their brokenness, their courage, and their beauty had a lasting impact on me. I am so grateful for their fellowship that day.
The Least of these - the different
Jesus said,
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’
“Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
“And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’
“Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons. For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ – Matthew 25:34-45
As I think about this passage, I wonder, “Do I live in such a way that I give water to the thirsty? Do I feed the hungry and clothe the naked? Do I welcome the stranger, the sick, and the mentally ill, and visit the imprisoned and lonely, not because I see they have a need and I have a ‘spiritual’ or religious duty to fill it, but because I don’t see them as any different than myself? And when I do notice those in need, what is the posture of my heart if I reach out and ‘minister’ to them? Does my heart just naturally pour out grace that overflows from the grace I have received, or do I pour out self-righteous superiority? Do I make judgements regarding someone’s needs based on what I presume to be a sinful lifestyle? Do I look away when someone looks different, dresses differently, or has different cultural values?
Learning from the Least
Several years ago, my youngest son disappeared on a youth trip in Orlando, Florida. Unknown to me, he struggled with same-sex attraction and couldn’t bear the shame and the thought of being ostracized by his friends and family – by those who were supposed to love him. After he returned home, we began seeing a psychologist – both Jerrod individually and our family as a whole. One of the first things our therapist asked me was, “Do you think you can receive instruction from someone who isn’t as righteous as you?” At the time, I thought it was an odd question, and my reply was, “I think so.”
Looking back now after struggling long years with shame and guilt from past experiences I didn’t understand, a broken marriage, and raising children that did not turn out the way I thought they should (praise the Lord for that!), I see both the relevance of that question, and the past pride that must have been evident in that first session.
The longer I live, the more I see just how broken I really am, but I also see how much I can learn from others who have also struggled in this journey called life. I am so grateful for my son and his unwavering faith. He has had to face his greatest fears, and struggle with rejection from family, friends, and even the church. I admire his courage and the compassion, grace, and mercy he offers to friend and stranger alike. I am grateful for those ladies I met in the park that summer day and how God used them to open my eyes to my pride. And I am so glad God has used those who some may view as different, to show me grace – that unearned favor – a different love. They have taught me to see beyond differences and to simply love differently.
How about you, friend, do you strive to love the different, or do you just love differently?