Not Being Scared to Get Dirty
As I told a church last Sunday, a lot of people take one look at Africa and say, “It’s too messy. There’s so much going on. There are problems on top of problems – AIDS, famine, disease, malaria, genocide, civil war, poverty. Where do I start?” I answer questions like these with one word: yes.
Like teenagers’ bedrooms, road construction in Nashville, and waiting to board a Southwest flight, there are things that seem to be unorganized, take forever, and seem to have no good entry point for anyone else to get involved. Africa is no exception. Even if we feel an inkling of a calling to go to a particular African country to dig a well or teach English or pass out food in a refugee camp, pessimism creeps in and tells us, “What difference can your contribution possibly be making? Great – you dug a well, but guess what? They need like seven thousand more of those.”
So, in response to pessimism’s rude intrusion into our idealistic mindset, we stay home, flip on the TV, and munch on some fresh fruit (and throw away about half of it). Maybe we pray, maybe we donate money, but we mainly settle into a feeling of contentment only to get worked up again if some fact or image from the developing world sneaks into our collective comfort zone.
However, in John 11, we see Jesus step right into the middle of a mess and offer meaning, presence, and hope.
Despite the demands from close friends, Jesus declines an initial invitation to visit Bethany in order to heal Lazarus. Instead, he decides to stay put for a few more days before journeying on, which again surprises those close to him. From these actions we see that Jesus often acts how we least expect. Lots of us have Jesus stereotyped. We think he looks and thinks like us. Were he here today, he would drive a car just like us (although he would be a better driver than us). He would vote how we vote, drink what we drink, and live where we live. He would love who we love. Or so we like to think (thinking like this keeps us comfortable and in America). In reality, if we claim to follow Jesus, then we must change to meet his standards instead of changing him to meet ours. And, a look at the Biblical story shows us that Jesus talked to people he shouldn’t have, touched people he shouldn’t have, and ate with people he shouldn’t have. He opened wide the Kingdom of God to all who dared to enter – not just to those we want to let in. This picture of him may make him different than we first imagined and may even be inconvenient (You mean I’m supposed to love everyone that’s different than me? And you mean love them, as opposed to just tolerate them? And you’re saying that this might cause me to vote or act or live differently because I should be acting for the benefit of others? - My answer is again one word: yes.). But, Jesus didn’t come to make our lives easy – he came to make them meaningful.
When Jesus finally does arrive in Bethany, he walks right into the middle of a big mess. Hired mourners are everywhere, family and friends are crying, the disciples are hanging around (and they definitely don’t get what’s going on), and Mary and Martha are a combination of ticked off, sad, confused, worried, and stressed. But, into this very human tapestry woven of pain and loss, the divine presence enters and hangs out. Taking time to speak with both sisters and visit the memorial tomb, he offers the comfort of a few words and even more meaningful actions. He’s not afraid of the mess that the unplanned events of life create. He’s not scared to speak with and be present with the victims of cruel life. Africa is filled with people who have been victimized by disease, famine, corruption, lack of education, and colonization. Being willing to step into the mess that is the continent of Africa and to hear the stories of those who feel like Mary and Martha did is a crucial first step towards change and healing.
Change, while difficult, can result in hope. The change of the resurrection of Lazarus brings about hope for everyone there – hope that Jesus is really who he says he is, hope that things will be different, hope that Lazarus will make a full recovery. But the biggest change of all is for Lazarus, whose eternity has just begun. Mary and Martha seem to give lip service to a belief that Lazarus will rise again at the last day, but Jesus rips eternity from the category of the afterlife and drops it right in the middle of this life. I’m willing to bet, that for Lazarus, flowers smelled better, colors looked brighter, and everything had a little bit more meaning. And it wasn’t because he was in heaven – it was because earth had become the start of his heaven. Now changed, his eternal life began and would continue beyond time. Those of us who claim to have experienced a similar change at the hands of Jesus must realize that our eternal life has begun. Just waiting for heaven to come means we miss out on bringing it to others. Believing that our eternity has already started allows us to be agents of change for those who need it most, helping to turn hearts of stone into hearts of love and fields of rock into fields of harvest. We have the motivation and the reason to fight for peace during war and to fight for cures during disease. Our life of convenience has been resurrected to a life of meaning by the life of Jesus, and we must therefore be willing to get dirty, walk into the middle of messes, and offer hope.
And maybe we can even do this half a world away.
Like teenagers’ bedrooms, road construction in Nashville, and waiting to board a Southwest flight, there are things that seem to be unorganized, take forever, and seem to have no good entry point for anyone else to get involved. Africa is no exception. Even if we feel an inkling of a calling to go to a particular African country to dig a well or teach English or pass out food in a refugee camp, pessimism creeps in and tells us, “What difference can your contribution possibly be making? Great – you dug a well, but guess what? They need like seven thousand more of those.”
So, in response to pessimism’s rude intrusion into our idealistic mindset, we stay home, flip on the TV, and munch on some fresh fruit (and throw away about half of it). Maybe we pray, maybe we donate money, but we mainly settle into a feeling of contentment only to get worked up again if some fact or image from the developing world sneaks into our collective comfort zone.
However, in John 11, we see Jesus step right into the middle of a mess and offer meaning, presence, and hope.
Despite the demands from close friends, Jesus declines an initial invitation to visit Bethany in order to heal Lazarus. Instead, he decides to stay put for a few more days before journeying on, which again surprises those close to him. From these actions we see that Jesus often acts how we least expect. Lots of us have Jesus stereotyped. We think he looks and thinks like us. Were he here today, he would drive a car just like us (although he would be a better driver than us). He would vote how we vote, drink what we drink, and live where we live. He would love who we love. Or so we like to think (thinking like this keeps us comfortable and in America). In reality, if we claim to follow Jesus, then we must change to meet his standards instead of changing him to meet ours. And, a look at the Biblical story shows us that Jesus talked to people he shouldn’t have, touched people he shouldn’t have, and ate with people he shouldn’t have. He opened wide the Kingdom of God to all who dared to enter – not just to those we want to let in. This picture of him may make him different than we first imagined and may even be inconvenient (You mean I’m supposed to love everyone that’s different than me? And you mean love them, as opposed to just tolerate them? And you’re saying that this might cause me to vote or act or live differently because I should be acting for the benefit of others? - My answer is again one word: yes.). But, Jesus didn’t come to make our lives easy – he came to make them meaningful.
When Jesus finally does arrive in Bethany, he walks right into the middle of a big mess. Hired mourners are everywhere, family and friends are crying, the disciples are hanging around (and they definitely don’t get what’s going on), and Mary and Martha are a combination of ticked off, sad, confused, worried, and stressed. But, into this very human tapestry woven of pain and loss, the divine presence enters and hangs out. Taking time to speak with both sisters and visit the memorial tomb, he offers the comfort of a few words and even more meaningful actions. He’s not afraid of the mess that the unplanned events of life create. He’s not scared to speak with and be present with the victims of cruel life. Africa is filled with people who have been victimized by disease, famine, corruption, lack of education, and colonization. Being willing to step into the mess that is the continent of Africa and to hear the stories of those who feel like Mary and Martha did is a crucial first step towards change and healing.
Change, while difficult, can result in hope. The change of the resurrection of Lazarus brings about hope for everyone there – hope that Jesus is really who he says he is, hope that things will be different, hope that Lazarus will make a full recovery. But the biggest change of all is for Lazarus, whose eternity has just begun. Mary and Martha seem to give lip service to a belief that Lazarus will rise again at the last day, but Jesus rips eternity from the category of the afterlife and drops it right in the middle of this life. I’m willing to bet, that for Lazarus, flowers smelled better, colors looked brighter, and everything had a little bit more meaning. And it wasn’t because he was in heaven – it was because earth had become the start of his heaven. Now changed, his eternal life began and would continue beyond time. Those of us who claim to have experienced a similar change at the hands of Jesus must realize that our eternal life has begun. Just waiting for heaven to come means we miss out on bringing it to others. Believing that our eternity has already started allows us to be agents of change for those who need it most, helping to turn hearts of stone into hearts of love and fields of rock into fields of harvest. We have the motivation and the reason to fight for peace during war and to fight for cures during disease. Our life of convenience has been resurrected to a life of meaning by the life of Jesus, and we must therefore be willing to get dirty, walk into the middle of messes, and offer hope.
And maybe we can even do this half a world away.
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