Our Amazing Hands

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The amazing human hand is so versatile!

Consisting of 27 bones, muscles, tendons and nerves—sensory nerves to warn us when something is hot or when injured and motor nerves relaying messages from the brain to enable us to move our wrist and fingers. Our hands also have ridges (we call them finger prints) to help us grip things. Some animals also have hands or paws but only primates and humans have fingers (digits) that can move. But only the human hand has an opposable thumb that can touch each of the other fingers enabling us to accomplish so many things—even picking up something as small as a pin or piece of lint. Gripping a pencil or wiping tears from a child’s eyes.

Hands can be clenched to create a weapon—a fist–or opened to give and receive something or to greet another person with a firm handshake. Some hands are callused from manual labor—others soft and even beautiful.

Anyway we look at them our hands are amazing and beautiful. Our hands not only have unique finger prints, but also, I believe, our unique hands reveal the fingerprint or our Creator. Perhaps you have visited the Sistine Chapel in Rome or seen Michelangelo’s fresco painting, The Creation of Adam. The hand of God is reaching out to touch the hand of the first human, Adam. The picture probably doesn’t portray reality but it is a wonderful reminder that we are not the product of chance.

A few weeks ago, here on the Front Porch Swing, we considered the stories of two people that had life-changing experiences through the simple touch of a hand. The woman with a chronic hemorrhage reached out to discreetly touch Jesus and was instantly healed. Jesus touched an untouchable man, filled with leprosy, and sent the man home healed in body and spirit.

This week, millions of people will celebrate two of the most dramatic events in human history: the crucifixion and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Human hands were involved in both the crucifixion and resurrection. So, let’s consider some of the hands that participated in Jesus death and the celebration that followed his resurrection.

Serving hands: The night prior to his crucifixion, Jesus gathered with his twelve closest friends (He called them friends for the first time that night, see John 15:15). The usual table conversation was mingled with the liturgy of the Passover celebration. Everything seemed normal—the food and the songs and Scripture readings—until Jesus rose from his place and disrobed. Wrapped in a towel like a common servant he began to wash the feet of the disciples. Think of it: the only truly holy man in the room, the teacher, was washing the feet of his students. Judas, one of the men at the table was a traitor. After Jesus’ hands had washed the twelfth set of feet, he put on his robe and took his place at the table. His hands passed a morsel of food to Judas—a symbol of friendship. The hands that had washed the disciples’ feet filled a cup with wine and passed it to his friends.

Greedy hands: Judas’ hands, that had previously gripped thirty silver coins in exchange for selling Jesus to his enemies, received the bread from Jesus. A few hours later these hands of the betrayer would embrace Jesus in the garden and seal his doom with a kiss.

Clenched hands: Jesus was dragged before the high priest to face an illegal nighttime trial. Without provocation, one of the temple officers struck Jesus’ face with clenched fist. Very early the next morning soldiers slapped and beat Jesus. Their hands shaped thorns into a crown and embedded it in his skull. Strong hands gripped whips and scourged Jesus—almost to the point of death.

Guilty hands: Wrapped in regret and overwhelmed with guilt, Pilate washed his hands, but he couldn’t cleanse his conscience.

Bloody hands: The hands of Roman soldiers drove spikes into an innocent man’s hands, securing him to the cross. These bloody hands also cast lots to see who could claim Jesus’ clothing.

Compassionate hands: The hands of Joseph and Nicodemus—once timidly secret followers of Jesus—boldly requested Pilate to release Jesus’ body to them. Their hands gently anointed Jesus body and wrapped it in linen and placed it in Joseph’s personal tomb.

Yes, human hands participated in the most grievous crime in history. Roman soldiers and politicians, religious leaders and even one of Jesus’ disciples shared responsibility for the crucifixion of Jesus.

Compassionate hands placed Jesus’ body in a tomb and hastened to roll a stone in place before Sabbath began at sunset.

It was a dark Friday night, and all hope that Jesus’ was the Messiah had been extinguished. But, the story wasn’t over. Sunday’s big surprise was coming!

 No human hands removed the stone from the tomb. Neither foe nor friend dared to challenge the seal of Rome guaranteeing the grave would remain secure. The soldiers and the seal of Rome could not prevent Jesus from evacuating the tomb.  The stone was moved—miraculously. Not to let the resurrected Jesus out, but to permit eyewitnesses to enter and to verify that the tomb was empty. No evidence of grave robbery. Just the empty linen cloth that had once shrouded body of Jesus and the face cloth, now folded neatly in the corner.

Very early Sunday morning, a handful of women that had followed Jesus timidly approached the grave. Concerned on how they could roll back the stone. No need to worry. The grave was already open. And empty.

Believing hands: Mary was the first person to encounter Jesus after his resurrection. Assuming he was the caretaker, she asked where Jesus’ body had been moved. He responded, “Mary.” Recognizing Jesus, Mary threw all caution and décor to the wind and fell at his feet, her hands clinging to him. She was the first eyewitness and the first person to touch the resurrected Christ.

Later that evening, Jesus mysteriously appeared before ten of his disciples that were secretly gathered in fear. When he showed them the scars on his hands and his side they believed and were filled with joy.

Thomas (who had been absent at the previous meeting with Jesus) refused to believe that Jesus was alive. His response: “Unless I can see the nail prints in his hands and touch his side, I cannot believe.” Eight days later Jesus again appeared among his disciples and invited Thomas to reach out his finger and touch Jesus’ hands. Thomas’ response (apparently without needing to touch Jesus) was to declare, “My Lord and my God!”

No more doubting. No more fear. That’s the power of the human touch.

So in my Jesus Album that we have been considering the past several weeks, I want to frame a picture of the scarred hands of Jesus.  

Whenever I mentally gaze on those scarred hands—those amazing hands, scarred hands— I exclaim with Thomas, “My Lord and my God!”

How about you?

Have you a mental picture of Jesus’ hands? Hands that touched the leper? Caressed the faces of little children? Offered friendship to a traitor? Hands that reach out to you and me, inviting us to come if we are weary and broken and have been scarred by life! Trust me! I will give you rest.

The human is amazing, but never have there been hands more beautiful than those nail pierced hands. How beautiful the hands that shared the wine and the bread and washed feet!

I share a link to a song about the beauty of Jesus’ hands and body and bride.

 Right click below and open the link to this song and give thanks to our savior and lord this holy week.

How beautiful by Twila Paris (with lyrics) – Bing video

Meek Lamb or Majestic Lion?

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 “What did Jesus look like?”

That’s a question a child may ask. Close your eyes and try to imagine how you would answer that child.

Was Jesus tall—six feet or more? What color was his hair? Were his eyes brown or blue? Throughout church history artists have tended to imagined a Jesus that resembled their ethnicity—Asian, African, Middle Eastern or European? The pictures of Jesus that I saw in Sunday School and hanging on the walls of church buildings had brown hair and fair skin. He is usually portrayed as squeaky clean, every hair in place and beard neatly trimmed and always dressed in his best Sabbath “go to meeting” robe—except those pictures of him hanging on a cross.

So, what did Jesus look like? The New Testament writers don’t provide a physical description. Perhaps the best description of Jesus was provided by a prophet living six centuries before Jesus’ birth: “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him and no beauty that we should desire him.” (Isa. 53:2, ESV)

Apparently there was nothing about Jesus’ physical appearance that would cause him stand out in a crowd. He looked like an ordinary man. No halo above his head, and no weird, piercing eyes that would frighten you.

Isaiah didn’t stop with that description of a rather ordinary looking Messiah. In fact, he paints two contrasting pictures: a regal king and a humble servant—a sacrificial lamb and the sovereign Lord.

Isaiah’s suffering servant

Isaiah described the coming Messiah as a lamb being led to the slaughterhouse. A lamb, the most vulnerable and defenseless livestock. No horns to defend itself. No strong body able to resist or break away and run. No loud, intimidating voice to cry out in protest. Just a lamb—a warm, wooly little body with blood coursing through its veins. This lamb’s blood would be poured out on the altar and its body burned into ashes. And for what reason? For my sin. For your sin. He is our substitute—assuming responsibility for our guilt and vicariously dying in our place.

Note how Isaiah describes the lamb’s death:

He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
He was pierced for our transgressions
He was crushed for our iniquities’
Upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:4-5, ESV)

He voluntarily suffered all that and more dying in my place. He paid a debt that he didn’t owe because I owed a debt that I could never repay. I was the one condemned, but he hung condemned in my place.

This is the gentle Jesus we meet in the gospels. Loving children and touching lepers. Standing silently before the mob in the high priest’s home and before Pilate. Like an innocent lamb allowing Roman soldiers to spike his wrists to the cross. Stripped and hanging naked in public view, he is silent except for a few last words—more like prayers for his accusers and his mother. He, who could call ten thousand angelic warriors to wipe out the evil mob, choosing instead to die in our place,

I cherish that picture in my Jesus album.

That’s the Lamb of God that we meet in Isaiah and in the gospels. That’s my Jesus!

Isaiah’s regal king

Having predicted Jesus’ birth, Isaiah added this description: “For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given: and the government shall be upon is shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isa.9:8, ESV)

“A child is born” sounds rather ordinary, but “a son is given” suggests pre-existence. This rather ordinary baby, both man and God—dust and divinity—becomes the greatest ruler in history. The government of the entire world rests upon his shoulders bringing the much anticipated peace to earth.

Isaiah, once again predicted the coming of Jesus, but this time, not as a helpless baby but a sovereign ruler and warrior. This time not to be slain as a lamb but as the slayer avenging innocent blood.

We also catch a glimpse of this lion-like Jesus in the gospels. Twice we discover an angry and agitated Jesus storming through the temple grounds with whip in hand and tossing the money changers tables like the trash they had become. He is setting goats, sheep and cattle free and releasing doves to fly once more. Quoting Scripture, he condemns the perpetrators for making the sacred temple a den of vulgar thieves. I see a face red with fury. His eyes igniting with rage and indignation.

This, also, is the real Jesus—not the Disney Land Dad we try to create him to be. Jesus meek and mild is now the lion untamed and wild.

Finally, we meet Jesus as both lion and lamb in the final book of the Bible—The Revelation of Jesus Christ:

“Then I saw in the right hand of him who was seated on the throne a scroll written within and on the back, sealed with seven seals. And I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.”” (Revelation 5:1–5, ESV)

There also is the real Jesus! The regal lion. Not a “king of beasts” but the authentic King of Kings. Not that large gray bearded, declawed cat behind bars in the local zoo, but the untamed Lion of Judah.

In the book, God in His Own Image, I share about watching and taking pictures of two mature male lions sunning themselves in the Queen Elizabeth National Park in Uganda. They really did appear fiercely regal. None of us volunteered to step out of our vehicle in order to get a closer shot with our cameras. Soon, these two powerful predators began to hightail it across the savanna and into the nearby jungle. It appeared as if they were running for their lives. They were! Their motivation was a herd of buffalo thundering across the plain to remove the threat of a couple of young, healthy lions.

Our Lion of Judah never runs in fear. He never kowtows before a monarch. He is the King of Kings! He is my Jesus.

John continues his description of Jesus:

“And between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth. And he went and took the scroll from the right hand of him who was seated on the throne. And when he had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints. And they sang a new song, saying,

“Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals,
for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God
from every tribe and language and people and nation,
and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,
and they shall reign on the earth.”

Then I looked, and I heard around the throne and the living creatures and the elders the voice of many angels, numbering myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice,

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,|
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might
and honor and glory and blessing!”

And I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, saying,

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

And the four living creatures said, “Amen!” and the elders fell down and worshiped.” (Revelation 5:6–14, ESV)

That, my friends, is the real Jesus as revealed in Scripture. He is both sacrificial lamb and regal lion. He is both a servant and sovereign king above all kings. He alone is worthy to receive uninhibited praise and undiminished honor.

So, let us join the angels and saints in glory by falling down to worship Him! For he alone is worthy.

(I appreciate responses from readers that have shared their favorite pictures of Jesus. What’s yours?)

He Touched Me!

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What’s your favorite picture of Jesus in the gospels?

That’s the question I asked in a recent post here on the Front Porch Swing. 

Today, I am sharing two of my favorite pictures of Jesus touching an unclean person—or being touched by someone considered unclean. 

Jesus touched a man with the dreaded disease of leprosy in Luke 5. 

“While he was in one of the cities, there came a man full of leprosy. And when he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and begged him, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” And Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, “I will; be clean.” And immediately the leprosy left him.” (Luke 5:12–13, ESV) 

This is one of my favorite snapshots of our Lord. Luke—a physician—described the encounter with a doctor’s eye for detail. The man was “filled with leprosy.” The disease was in an advanced state and beyond medical hope. He may have very well been disfigured. Even repulsive.

For certain, he was considered unclean and forbidden to go near anybody. He knew “social distancing” before that unpleasant term ever entered human vocabulary. For years he lived outside the city—away from family and friends—forbidden to attend his local synagogue or celebrate Passover at the temple in Jerusalem. He hadn’t felt the assurance of human touch for years. Think of it! But one day, learning that Jesus was passing through the neighborhood, he deliberately broke all the cultural taboos. 

Imagine the crowd scattering, faces filled with indignation and fear, as they saw this broken man approaching. Much as they despised him and objected to his presence, however, nobody dared to get close enough to push him aside. He kept coming toward Jesus, the only person who didn’t try to move a safe distance away. Falling prostrate, hardly daring to raise his eyes up toward Jesus, he begged, “Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.” Notice that He didn’t say, “If you can…” He had heard enough about Jesus’ power over death and disease to believe. It was a question of the Lord’s attitude, not his ability.

Can you see him in that moment, kneeling in the dust before Jesus, shaking with anticipation and fear? No shame was too great to keep him from crying out for help in that moment. The crowd—standing at a safe distance—probably fell silent with anticipation. What would Jesus do? Would he say, “Be healed”? Or would he warn the desperate man away, shouting, “Stay back! No closer!” And who could blame him if he did?

Luke writes that Jesus “stretched out his hand and touched him.” We can almost imagine it in slow motion—the pure, sinless hand of God’s Son reaching closer and closer to the impure, defiled skin.
“I will,” he said. “Be clean.” Were more precious words ever spoken? And that touch! The physical contact of a warm, kindly hand. That must have been even more precious to him.

And the result came in the blink of an eye. Like a flash of summer lightning. “Immediately the leprosy left him.” No more social distancing. No more groveling. No more quarantine. The man returned to his home to break bread with his family.

We marvel at Jesus’ ability to heal, but his tender compassion in that moment is even more amazing. Touching the untouchable.

Jesus is touched by an outcast, unclean woman.

Luke shares another picture about a social outcast approaching Jesus. 

“… As Jesus went, the people pressed around him. And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone. She came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment, and immediately her discharge of blood ceased. And Jesus said, “Who was it that touched me?” When all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds surround you and are pressing in on you!” But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.” And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.”” (Luke 8:42–48, ESV) 

Who wouldn’t fall in love with Jesus after seeing his response to this desperate woman? Surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers pressing to get a little closer to Jesus is a woman—just as unclean as the man filled with leprosy. Her defilement may not have been outwardly visible, but physically and socially, it was just as lethal. And just as hopeless as well. She had already exhausted almost all of her monetary resources to pay doctor bills.

Because of her affliction, she was a social outcast, disqualified from attending synagogue or celebrating the grand feast days at the temple. In that culture, she was considered unclean; and everything she happened to touch would also become unclean. Legally, she shouldn’t have been mingling in the crowd of healthy people following Jesus that day. But like the leper, she had heard about this unusual Rabbi’s ability to heal. If only she could touch his clothing, she told herself—even the fringe of his robe—she would find help. And she had to try. The chance might not come again. 

Unlike the leper, she didn’t publicly fall at Jesus’ feet, but stealthily crept up behind him as he passed. We can imagine her perspiring, her heart hammering in her chest. Would she actually have the courage to reach out her hand? And then her chance came. The crowd parted, just for a moment, and she thrust out a trembling hand, allowing her fingertips to simply brush the fringe of his garment. 

No one saw or heard the mighty release of power in that moment. But she knew it, and so did Jesus. 

The Rabbi from Nazareth turned in his tracks and addressed the crowd. “Who touched me?” It seemed like a ludicrous question, with the mob pressing tight around him. But Jesus persisted. “Somebody touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.” 

Finally the woman fell down before him, admitting her guilt and publicly declaring why she had dared such an act. Yes, she was afraid. But her fear must have surged alongside great joy in that moment. She knew beyond all doubt that she had been completely healed. 

And how did Jesus respond to such a brash action? No need to worry about that. Filled with compassion, the Lord blessed her, affirming that her faith had made her whole. She was free to resume life. To attend synagogue and reconnect with her family and friends.

These are two of my favorite pictures of Jesus, delivering two social outcasts from bondage. One came with bold faith and received a healing touch. The other approached timidly and feather-brushed the hem of his robe. Both were healed. Both were cleansed. Both were restored to live a normal life with friends and family.

I love both of these pictures. One person publicly fell prostrate before Jesus asking to be healed. The other silently reached out to touch Jesus. Both received mercy. Both were loved by Jesus. 

We also come to Jesus with different needs and different temperaments, and he responds with compassion and mercy

In either story, the camera is focused on Jesus, and that’s the way it ought to be. 

Imagine the leper singing, “He touched me, and now I am no longer the same. I am whole!”

Imagine the woman declaring, “I touched him and I am whole!” One touch and the unclean woman was made clean. That same touch made Jesus legally unclean. 

Like the leper and the unclean woman, each of us is a spiritual outcast. The filth of our sin separates us from our holy God, but when we come to Jesus in faith, he takes our sin on himself and places his righteousness on us. 

Perhaps, having read this post, you could place yourself in one of these stories. Like the unclean leper and the woman, you realize that you have sinned against God. You are unclean. You are guilty and can offer nothing to deserve God’s love and grace. 

Perhaps our sinful lifestyle has been observed by other people. Our guilt and moral filth is visible like the man scarred by leprosy. Or perhaps our sinful actions have been more secretive, and our spiritual uncleanness is out of sight, like that of the woman’s physical disease. 

Either way, you and I are sinners. We have crossed the line and broken God’s commandments. We all fall short of the mark and are condemned, guilty rebels. Perhaps you are more like the leper who ran toward Jesus and openly begged for healing. Then again, you may be more like the timid woman slipping up behind Jesus incognito, seeking healing.

No matter! The key is to recognize your sin and seek Jesus’ healing touch of mercy and grace.

I encourage you to take that first step toward Jesus seeking to be cleansed and forgiven. If you desire God’s forgiveness and grace, and would like spiritual counsel, please reply to this post. I will respond and help us set up a private way to communicate with each other. 

Nothing would give me more joy.

My Jesus Picture Album

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What’s your favorite picture of Jesus?

I tossed out that question at the Shepherd’s House—a faith based recovery ministry in Bend, Oregon. We were beginning a study of the Gospel of Luke and on our journey we would discover pictures of Jesus from so many different perspectives or poses.

Several men responded to my question. Soon it was obvious that one of their favorite pictures was Jesus blessing little children. I suspect that life experiences had influenced their impression of Jesus.  Perhaps the lack of a father’s nurturing love motivated them, or were they grieving a broken relationship with their own sons and daughters as a result of their addictions? Whenever I try to imagine Jesus blessing the children I see the expression of delight on their parents’ faces as Jesus tenderly stroked their child’s face.

Other favorite pictures that the men shared that morning at the Shepherds House included Jesus restoring sight to a blind person. The more adventuresome men liked Jesus walking on water one stormy night.

In chapter five of my book, God in His Own Image: loving God for who he is… not who we want Him to be, I shared about a familiar picture of Jesus as the good shepherd holding a lamb in his arms. If time machines really did exist, and I could be zoomed back two millennia, (with my smart phone in my pocket) I would want pictures of Jesus touching the leper and washing the feet of his disciples in the Upper Room. Perhaps I would take a picture of Jesus sitting in Peter’s boat while holding the multitudes on the shores of Galilee spellbound by his words. How about a picture of Jesus conversing with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well with his disciples looking on with displeasure? That would make a picture!

Although less pleasant, I would also want a picture of Jesus of Jesus praying in the garden moments before Judas’ kiss of betrayal. I would like to capture a picture of Jesus standing before Pilate asking, “What is truth?”

 I would also want a picture of Jesus hanging on the cross. (I admit that I close my eyes and turn away whenever I see Jesus being scourged in the movie, The Passion of the Christ.) But, I would like a realistic picture of that horrible scene on Calvary just before the sun was eclipsed.

On our recent flight back to Portland from Florida the lyrics of the song “Hallelujah, What a Savior” reverberated in my mind. With my Covid19 face mask hiding my mouth I quietly sang the lyrics of the song to myself. (I was also singing to Jesus.)

The first four stanzas of the song picture Jesus as the Man of Sorrows, describing the abuse and his excruciating death. Each stanza describing his death concludes with the refrain, “Hallelujah, what a savior!” Singing “hallelujah” in response to someone’s death seems out of place until I am reminded that he, though innocent, was condemned to die in my place. That he sealed my pardon with his blood. His last words, “It is finished,” guaranteed full atonement for my sin and guilt. I have been forgiven. Because Jesus was condemned—declared guilty—for my sin, I will never face condemnation. I can sing hallelujah to that!

The hymn concludes: “When he comes, our glorious King, all His ransomed home to bring, then a new this song we’ll sing: Hallelujah, what a Savior!”

Anticipating Jesus’ return is something to shout about, isn’t it? I, the guilty sinner, have been ransomed—bought with his blood—and adopted into God’s family.

Like the composer, Philip Bliss, every miracle Jesus performed, every sermon he preached, every spellbinding story he told, and every wound he suffered impels me to sing, “Hallelujah, What a Savior!”

Sadly, not every person identifies with these positive images of Jesus. If you have followed the Front Porch Swing, you may remember this very agitated response to one of my recent blogs:”I wonder if the author of this piece pretends a tortured Jew who controls this planet with god magic.”  

Such a skeptical response can only come from someone who has never met Jesus—never read the gospel of Luke—preferring to deny the savior rather than to admit their own sin.

Regretfully, some have never heard about Jesus or had opportunity to read the gospels. Never held a Bible in their hands. Tragic as that is, the fault too often lies at the threshold of churches where evangelism is the forgotten mission.

As our world unravels around us, let us open the Jesus’ album and give people a glimpse of Jesus.

One thing is certain: there has never been another life that has impacted the world as dramatically as this one solitary life.

Over the next few weeks I want to share pictures from Luke’s Jesus’ album. My prayer is that my heart, and yours, will once again burn with passionate love for Jesus. May the refrain, “Hallelujah! What a savior!” reverberate in our hearts once again as it did when we first met him and fell in love with him.

(If you have not read the book, God in His Own Image, I encourage you to check it out. You can find it in both hard copy and audio book version.)

Lessons from an Ostrich

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Several weeks ago I asked my friend, Larry Libby (he also volunteers as my editor, for which I am deeply grateful), what he thought about working on a post about frogs and ostriches. He was game to try, so here goes.

Two familiar sayings—“the frog in the kettle” and “bury your head in the sand”—illustrate two potential responses to our rapidly changing secular culture. I have discovered that both frogs and ostriches are listed among the unclean foods in Leviticus 11:13-19. You’d never find frog legs or an ostrich drumstick on a Kosher menu. A practicing Jew would never say, “Frog legs taste like chicken.”

The fourth plague in Exodus 8 was an infestation of frogs. The sixth bowl judgment in Revelation 16:13 is described as “three unclean, demonic spirits, like frogs.”

The ostrich doesn’t fare much better in Scripture. Their meat, like that of vultures, ravens and birds of prey, was considered “detestable.” These giant birds are included among hyenas and jackals and other assorted creatures that inhabit deserted places (Isaiah 13:19-22; Jeremiah 9:39, 40; Job 30:24-31:1; Micah 1:6-9). 

In the last few posts on the Front Porch Swing, I have challenged my readers to invest in projects like providing safe drinking water in developing countries. I have encouraged you to pray for those suffering religious persecution and become an advocate for the unborn at risk in the womb. 

Living as we do in America, or in almost any Western nation, most of us are wealthy compared to millions of people struggling in abject poverty. Many people will go to bed tonight hungry. Some live in tin shacks. Some will sift through garbage dumps to tomorrow. Others will be arrested and imprisoned for having a Bible in their possession.

Currently, like many of you, I am frustrated by not being able to gather as a church family on Sunday. More tragic are the millions who dare not even gather quietly in their own homes, in fear of arrest or martyrdom.

I could go on and on about our affluence. My purpose is not to bring shame or guilt, because we live where we do. But my goodness, we—of all people—ought to be lavish in our praise and gratitude toward God, the giver of all good gifts.

That’s a very good start. But if I all I do is offer thanks, I would be remiss. The Bible frequently calls for getting involved. Jesus illustrated it so well in His famous “Good Samaritan” story. Two religious leaders, probably quite well off, passed a wounded man lying in the middle of the path. Both recognized the man was in desperate straits and would undoubtedly die without assistance. Both passed by anyway. Did they whisper a prayer for the victim as they passed? Probably not, or Jesus would have said so. Bottom, neither got a hand dirty or lost valuable time or spent so much as a dime to help him.

A third man, a despised Samaritan, soon came upon the bloody scene. Seeing the victim lying in the path and hearing his barely audible groans, the Samaritan felt compassion. Ignoring the risk that he too might be victimized on that dangerous stretch of highway, he stopped to offer assistance. He got involved. After cleansing the wounds and making bandages from his own clothing, he placed the man on his donkey and hastened down the path to the nearest lodging place. Before continuing his journey the next morning, the Samaritan gave the host money—essentially his Visa card—to care for the victim.

That’s why we call people who stop to help others in trouble, “Good Samaritans.” You may have met some of these good people along life’s pathway. Perhaps you were stuck in a snow bank or parked on the shoulder in a disabled car in the middle of the night as vehicles roared past. Then, to your vast relief, a car stopped and the driver offered to help you—or call for help—to get on your way again. I’ve been there. I’ve even been the Good Samaritan a few times. More often than not, however, I drove on by. Somebody else will stop and help them, I’ve told myself. Everybody has a cell phone.

Life in today’s world is filled with suffering and wounded individuals. She may be curled up on the sidewalk on a cold night wrapped in cardboard. He may be huddling in a thin blanket on a concrete floor in a North Korean prison. She may be widow in India, grieving her husband’s death at the hands of militant Hindu terrorists, wondering how she will feed her children. She may be pregnant, married or not, considering a lethal option.

You get the point; people are suffering and dying and living in fear. There is no shortage of opportunities to be a Good Samaritan. Nor is there a shortage of resources. 

The question is, how will I respond? I can’t really say that I have nothing to offer. We all have something to offer. Nor can I claim ignorance. To do so makes me either a frog or an ostrich.

We’re all familiar with the famous frog-in-the-kettle story. Put him in a large pan of cool water and he is right at home. Put the pan on a kitchen range and turn the fire on low to gradually, almost imperceptibly, heat the water. The environment changes so slowly that the frog doesn’t notice—until it’s too late.

Have I become too comfortable with contemporary culture? Do I watch on TV what I once would have walked out of in a movie theater? Do I justify purchasing what I once considered excess? Am I being conformed—molded like lime Jell-O—by the culture, rather than being changed by the living Word of God?

You’ve heard of culture shock? It’s a real experience. It isn’t easy dropping into an underdeveloped country and witnessing the abject poverty of the people, or perhaps the scars of severe persecution. For me, however, the greater culture shock was in coming back to America after a lengthy global mission trip. It takes weeks or longer to adjust to what it means to live in a nation blessed with over-the-top abundance of everything. But those feelings eventually, almost imperceptibly, fade. Life returns to normal, in our world of safe highways, newer autos, supermarkets and medical clinics everywhere. It’s what we expect.

Am I a frog in the kettle?

Or maybe I have a greater resemblance to the ostrich, with my head buried in the sand. But I really can’t plead ignorance about the injustices and evil around me. Our culture seems hell-bent on discarding traditional morality. Evil has too often elbowed out good. We may adjust our vocabulary, but wrong is still wrong by any name. The assault on the institution of marriage has been relentless. Less than a quarter of a century ago, Congress passed the Defense of Marriage Act, and President Clinton signed it into law. Even Barak Obama ran on the defense of traditional marriage, before “evolving,” once in office. Today, that good law has been trashed. The once sacred covenant of marriage has been defiled. Anything goes. Except, of course, insisting that marriage is a covenant between one man and one woman intended to remain intact until death.

Words like fornication and adultery are rarely heard in today’s era of sexual freedom. Restrooms are in danger of no longer being gender specific. Men, supposedly “transformed” into women, unfairly compete against women in sports.

A female ostrich, when compared with jackals, receives an even poorer rating, because of her careless maternal instincts: “Even jackals offer the breast; they nurse their young, but the daughter of my people has become cruel, like the ostriches in the wilderness” (Lamentations 4:1-5). 

The legend of the ostrich sticking its head in the sand isn’t really true. Some believe the ostrich, seeing danger, may hunker down and duck its long neck and head to disguise itself as a bush. 

An ostrich may not immerse its head in the sand, but do we, if we know something is wrong but fail to respond? We plead ignorance. We are like children hiding behind a blanket. 

To know there is another person, created in the image of God, living in the womb, but call it a “mass of tissue” is to put our heads in the sand. To know there are children starving to death and not respond is putting our heads into the sand. To know Christians are being persecuted and slaughtered and remain silent is putting our heads into the sand. Like children, playing peek-a-boo, we pretend (by our actions or lack thereof) that we didn’t see anything. 

One thing is certain, Someone saw! 

We will stand before Him one day. It won’t be a Zoom call or on FaceTime, it will be face-to-face, and we will give an account of our lives. In that day, however, it won’t be about frogs and ostriches. We will be identified as a sheep or a goat, based on our response to the injustices around us (Matthew 25:31-46).

Let’s be sheep, following our Good Shepherd through a broken world…and all the way Home.

A Few Thoughts about Leaving a Legacy

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Everyone leaves a legacy of one kind or another.

One person may strive to create a positive legacy that will bless those left behind. Someone else might not think about that at all, seldom considering what people will say about them when their bodies lie six feet under, or their ashes have been scattered on a mountaintop. 

Even so, they still leave a legacy, proving they inhaled air and consumed calories.

Have you baby boomers noticed how many pop songs from the 50s and 60s have been resurrected to sell everything from soap to soup? I’m thinking of a particular TV commercial with a familiar pop song from the early 60s. As the steaming soup is lovingly ladled into the white bowl, we hear Ricky Nelson crooning, “There’ll never be anyone else but you for me, never ever be, just couldn’t be anyone else but you.” 

I wonder what Nelson would think about his voice and hit song being used to sell a can of soup? Would he have wanted that to be part of his legacy?

Sometimes a person’s life has had such great influence that we honor their legacy with statues and monuments. The heads of four American presidents, chiseled into granite on Mount Rushmore, are a testimony to their legacies. 

I hope their faces will remain fixed on that South Dakota peak. I use the word “hope” because the dynamite that helped carve their images in the granite could also be used to deface them. Nothing here on earth is guaranteed to remain forever. In the past year, statues of once-admired people were ripped from their pedestals by our present “cancel culture.” Some people want to carry that even further, purging positive statements about historical figures such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson from history books.

Throughout history, great world leaders have created monuments to authenticate their achievements—and supposedly assure their legacies. 

King Herod, for example, using forced labor, constructed The Herodian, Masada and Caesarea Maritima. Any one of these accomplishments is testimony to his once greatness (and cruel vanity). 

The Herodian is a palace-like fortress constructed on a 400 feet high cone about ten miles south of Jerusalem. The top of the hill is surrounded by a five-foot thick circular wall that encloses a second wall of similar thickness, designed to provide Herod a safe retreat if threatened. The fortress was initially seven stories high and was intended to be a permanent monument to the evil king’s legacy.

Jewish Zealots captured the fortress in 66 AD. The Herodian fell into disrepair through the centuries. Even Herod’s tomb was violated. Today, excavation is revealing marvelous details of a supposedly-secure fortress in the desert.

Herod also constructed another fortress in the Judean desert. Masada (or fortress), like the Herodian, boasted of amenities including swimming pools, saunas and cisterns. Once considered unconquerable on its high plateau 1,330 feet above the nearby Dead Sea, Masada has become a tourist attraction. People come to see where 960 Jewish rebels committed mass suicide, denying the Roman army the satisfaction of killing them on April 15, 73 A.D. 

Caesarea Maritima, constructed on the shore of the Mediterranean, served as Herod’s winter palace. Boasting a harbor large enough for 300 ships and an aqueduct—much of it still standing—that brought water from springs over ten miles away. The fortified town also boasted of a sewage system flushed by the tide. The hippodrome seated over 20,000, where onlookers viewed chariot races or bloody gladiatorial combats.

Today, each of these magnificent monuments to Herod’s legacy is an archaeological ruin. I wonder what Herod would think if he could know what has happened to them. Herod is better known for slaughtering all the innocent two-year-old and younger boys in Bethlehem.

How could it be otherwise for a man like Herod, so paranoid that he killed his own wife and sons, believing them to be a threat to his rule? 

I realize Ricky Nelson’s legacy is greater than one popular song resurrected for a TV ad. But the very fact that those lyrics—once celebrating devoted love—have become a 15-second commercial for soup illustrates that our legacy must be built on something greater than statues or songs. These things will pass away like the Herodian and Masada.

The greatest legacy we can leave is to have invested in things of eternal value: people. Things we have done for or invested in other people create lasting legacies, impacting generations to come, and perhaps reaching into eternity.

Resources and time wisely invested in helping others in Jesus’ name will never be wasted. You can’t say that about money left in banks or retirement accounts after our passing. No matter how much we accumulate, it will all be left behind for others to invest wisely or to waste. Jesus spoke to this in His parable of the foolish farmer. He had filled up his granaries to the max and we ready to kick back and enjoy a leisurely retirement. But all too suddenly, his time was up, and he found himself facing his Creator. 

Words that resonate with and reinforce a lasting legacy are often shared at memorial services, describing how the deceased’s life impacted other lives by their generous sharing of time or resources.

Perhaps the best counsel on how to live life and leave a lasting legacy is captured in these words from an old prophet:

“He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
And to walk humbly with your God?” 

(Micah 6:8)

If you want to see God’s perspective on leaving a legacy that will influence generations to come, take a look at Psalm 112.

When our last breath has been expelled and others gather to grieve and remember, what will they say? What will be our legacy?

No matter where you are in your lifeline it’s not too late, with God’s help, to make a difference.

Starting now.

Paying It Forward

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Lining up for water in Uganda

The movie, Pay It Forward, released in 2000—starring Kevin Spacey, Helen Hunt, and Haley Joel Osment—packed a powerfully, emotional message. Trevor, a seventh- grade boy, accepts his social studies teacher’s challenge to devise a plan that will change the world for the better. Trevor’s plan—Pay It Forward—was to help somebody, who would then agree to help three other people without expecting anything in return.

Sometimes simple plans are the best, aren’t they? Invest in other people. 

Jesus also shared a strategy for investing our resources wisely by paying them forward. The fact that this teaching is repeated several times in the gospels suggests it was—and is—very important.

Jesus first shared these instructions in The Sermon on The Mount—His most familiar sermon recorded in the Bible: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19–21, ESV). 

Jesus warned against foolish or insecure investments, and followed up with positive instructions on how to invest wisely. Everybody invests in something. Every wise person stores up or sets aside something for a rainy day, or to tide them over in their old age. The problem is, according to Jesus, there are no, absolutely secure investment this side of the grave. The stock market goes up and down. Thieves steal. And by the way, those thieves have a lot more opportunities today with the Internet, don’t they? Internet sites can swear up and down that they are secure; but eventually somebody, somewhere—with nothing constructive to do—may penetrate all the protections. It happens! Even the once “secure sites” of our federal government have been violated by hackers from other nations.

Jesus’ point is very simple: You can try to protect it, but you can’t bank on it. He adds, “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money. “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6:24–25, ESV).

Either we place our confidence and priority in accumulating wealth and possession here, or we pay it forward by investing in something secure—something eternal—the Kingdom of God. The latter choice removes the need to feel anxious when circumstances change. Why? Because God is intimately acquainted with all my needs and promises to provide. 

I share two incidents from the gospels that illustrate Jesus’ investment philosophy.

First, in Luke 12, Jesus responded to a request to arbitrate a dispute between two men—two brothers— over inheriting their father’s estate. Jesus’ first response to the argument was a warning about covetousness—and a strong reminder that life is more than accumulating wealth. He drove His point with a story about a very wealthy farmer that had been blessed with a bountiful harvest. His granaries were already full so he said himself, “I will do this: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.”  (By chance, did you notice he has an “I” problem?)  I imagine him saying to himself, “Well, you really did good this time! Nothin’ but blue skies ahead.”

The story, however, wasn’t over. A big surprise was waiting just around the corner. Just a few hours later, on what had seemed like a normal night, the wealthy farmer heard the voice of God Himself, breaking into his dreams. “‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God” (Luke 12:18–21, ESV).

All that he worked for and set aside to enjoy was left behind, for other people to quarrel over or squander.

Luke records another incident about paying it forward in chapter 18. Another wealthy man with social prestige asked Jesus what he had to do to be certain of inheriting eternal life. When Jesus told him to keep all the commandments, the man insisted that he had done that since he was a boy. (Sounds a bit presumptuous, doesn’t it?) His bubble burst when Jesus added these words: “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich. Jesus, seeing that he had become sad, said, “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (Luke 18:22–25, ESV).

This is the only account in Scripture where somebody came to Jesus, filled with anticipation, but left sad. Disappointed. His riches had become his security blanket—his god. Jesus’ concluding remarks offered assurance that paying it forward in this life reaps eternal results. That’s not to say good works can buy a ticket to heaven. Only God’s grace demonstrated in the death, burial, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ can accomplish that. Salvation is by faith alone, not works. Authentic, saving faith, however, is demonstrated through actions, such as sharing our resources with those in need. 

God calls for His people to help the poor, the widow, the orphan and refugee. The needs in our world are great. The inequities between rich and poor—between developed and developing nations—are so wide today. Opportunities to invest some of our discretionary money abound.

A few months ago, here on the Front Porch Swing, I shared a challenge to make an eternal investment in a water project in western Uganda where I have taught. I am grateful for those who responded. Today, there is a deep-water well providing safe drinking water to three communities surrounding a local Baptist church. I share a couple of pictures of the project. Notice that the local people stepped forward to do much of the volunteer labor, such as digging the trenches to carry to water from the well to distribution sites.

Uganda Water Project- laying the pipe and one of three water stations in the community.

To each of you who invested in the project, I want to say thank you on behalf of the Ugandans who are now enjoying clean drinking water.

 Multiple opportunities to invest in kingdom work abound. I encourage you to consider becoming involved. I am not suggesting that you reroute funds that you give to your local church, but from the discretionary funds that you have, why not invest in something that makes a difference and has eternal value? 

Here is a short list of ministries that I trust to use your investments wisely:

Samaritan’s Purse, World Vision, Designs for Hope, Mercy Ships, Open Doors and Voice of the Martyrs. The latter two prioritize meeting needs among Christians that are being persecuted and imprisoned. You can find any of these ministries on the Internet, and can research their credibility.

Thanks for reading this blog and considering if you may want to pay it forward today.

The Influence of One Man to Transform an Empire

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“A picture,” as they say,” is worth a thousand words.” That’s how I introduced a blog on November 19th.

A picture can raise public awareness of injustices. Pictures on the evening news or in Life Magazine of blacks marching across the bridge in Selma—being bloodied by police batons and dogs—raised awareness and fueled the struggle against segregation. Last year, the picture of a police officer’s knee pressing against a black man’s neck unleashed public anger. Unfortunately, it became an excuse for rioting and anarchy. The injustices have always been present, but one picture pushed the simmering anger to the boiling point. 

Such is the power of one picture. 

Today, here on Front Porch Swing, I want to consider what one man or one woman taking up the cause against an injustice can accomplish. That man, in this case, was William Wilberforce.

Wilberforce, a member of the British House of Commons, led the cause to abolish slavery throughout the British Empire. He began the struggle in 1788, while gathering meticulous information about the brutal realities of slavery. He introduced bills that were defeated in the House of Commons in 1791, 1792, 1793, 1797, 1798, 1799, 1804 and 1805. In spite of each rejection, Wilberforce continued his mission relentlessly. Finally, on Feb. 23, 1807, the House of Commons voted to abolish the slave trade by 283 to 16. His persistence paid off. Yes, others were also part of the cause, but it took one man in a strategic place, fully committed to the cause, to lead the charge. 

Wilberforce and other abolitionist turned the tide of public opinion by exposing slavery for what it really was. Pictures of field workers under the harsh whip of white plantation owners and living examples of emancipated slaves displaying the scars on their backs began to open eyes. Taking wealthy merchants, with wives in tow, to visit ships where up to 700 slaves were chained in tight quarters below deck in filthy conditions also had an influence. 

What they saw—and smelled—and experienced—they could never forget. 

They witnessed the iron shackles. They learned that half the slaves torn from their homes and villages in Africa would never survive the trans-Atlantic crossing, but would fall victim to disease, torture, and suicide. The stench in the slave quarters of the ship burned nasal passages, but began to open eyes and hearts and mouths to cry out against exporting human beings like cargo.

The actual institution of slavery, however, was not abolished in the British Empire until July 26, 1833. 

Why? Why 26 years? Why did it take so long to eradicate something so obviously evil? Simply speaking: money. There were fortunes to be made, and slave labor sustained the sugar and cotton industries. The British loved sugar in their tea. What’s more, slave trade generated tax revenue, and bankers, merchants and politicians benefited. Britain became wealthy through the trade of products produced on the backs of slaves. The injustices of slavery remained out of sight (by choice) since it was across the Atlantic in the Americas. Not in enlightened England.

The same motivations drove and sustained slavery in our Southern States. Huge plantations depended on cheap (free) labor in their tobacco and cotton fields. Sadly, money spoke louder than Scripture. In fact, Scripture was twisted to defend slavery in southern churches. In later years, it was also used to justify the evil of segregation and Jim Crow laws and the Klu Klux Klan. On a visit to a southern state in the heart of the cotton industry, I visited the Museum of Cotton. Watching videos about cotton production, I was somewhat stunned to hear the narrator suggesting that the poor blacks actually benefited and loved their gracious masters.

Thank God slavery and segregation is forbidden by law today. But just making something illegal doesn’t mean that it stops. Racial injustices continue. Humans are being sold and transported around the world and in America today. More often these days, they will be young girls or women sold into sexual slavery. Or they may be poor immigrants smuggled into the country and forced to labor in sweat shops where they will never escape poverty.

But today I want to revisit the issue of abortion. Perhaps one day, soon I hope, the generations that follow may look back at the present brutal and horrific practice of abortion on demand. They may write books about the cruel injustices heaped upon the unborn and defended by politicians and judges using the very amendment intended to eradicate slavery. Will those who follow us criticize preachers and professors of ethics who shamelessly defend abortion on the basis of a woman’s “right to privacy”? Will they be shocked to discover that abortion became a profitable industry (I cringe to even us the word), and that tax money supported an institution responsible for millions of abortions?

How can this be in our “enlightened” 21st century?

Maybe we aren’t as enlightened—or “woke”—as we imagine ourselves. Are we as blind, by choice, as those British bankers and businessmen and housewives dumping sugar in their tea, while human beings were bought and sold and abused like livestock? Surely not! Of course, we are more cognizant of injustices around the world. Aren’t we? People living in the 2020s are more empathetic and compassionate than those 17th century aristocrats. Aren’t we? We would never value sugar more than another human being.

I wonder. I wonder if we have simply chosen to look the other way. 

Will it take a picture, like that of the cop’s knee on the neck of a black man? Will it take one or two or more citizens dedicated to becoming a voice defending those without a voice? Each of these little ones has a brain, a heart, lungs and stomach, and can feel pain. But in the womb—no voice. No legal protection.

Let me illustrate. Perhaps you’ve seen something on the Internet about the penalty for killing an eagle or destroying a marine turtle’s nest. Eagles have been protected by law since the 1940 Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act, because they were in danger of becoming extinct. Thankfully the eagles have rebounded under protection of the law and we can enjoy their majesty today. The Endangered Species Act of 1973 added protection for other species threatened by extinction. Today, killing or possessing any part of an eagle can bring a misdemeanor conviction and fine up to 5,000 dollars, or a felony conviction and fine up to $250,000 or 2 years in prison. A construction company in Florida was convicted of destroying a tree where eagles nested and fined $356,125. The individual worker most responsible was fined $5,000 and put on a 3-year probation. That’s because we value eagles, and rightfully so.

Florida’s Marine Turtle Protection Act permits fines of $100 per egg destroyed and up to $100,000 for destroying a nest or killing a turtle.

Pro-lifers have used the above information to demonstrate the incongruity in our culture. One of the strangest, almost ludicrous, responses that I have ever heard appeared in a debate on the internet: 

Turtles are in danger of extinction. Humans are in danger of overpopulating and destroying the planet. Turtle eggs aren’t a part of a woman’s body, and many women don’t die in the process of giving birth to turtle eggs.

The turtle mom wants her babies.

The most unfair argument in that absurd and wildly inaccurate internet post may be the final sentence: “The turtle wants her babies.” I wonder if the mother would even recognize one of her 100 or more offspring if they bumped into each other in the ocean one day. She will never come back to check on the batch of leathery eggs in the warm sand. But I assure that every aborted baby was wanted. Wanted by somebody. Wanted by a family waiting to adopt. Wanted by a church eager to welcome them to the Sunday gatherings.   

 What perplexes me is that the penalty for destroying a protected animal is greater if a corporation or an institution is involved in the crime. Yet the U.S. Government includes Planned Parenthood (an institution) in the annual budget! No law against killing a baby. In fact, they are rewarded with tax money.

I do not write to condemn any woman who has chosen to abort her offspring. That is not my prerogative. That is God’s. Hopefully, someday, it will once again be the government’s task. 

I believe abortion must be the most painfully difficult choice a woman can make in good conscience. I am grateful that God’s grace is greater than all or any sin. He is the God of mercy and second chances. 

I am not the judge, but I am responsible to be the voice—the Wilberforce, if you please—to cry out in defense of the most vulnerable among us.

The Immigrant among Us

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The Statue of Liberty, New York

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest tost to me,
I life my lamp beside the golden door!”
(The New Colossus, by Emma Lazarus, 1883; mounted on the pedestal of The Statue of Liberty)

What book have you read that challenged you to the core and was so timely that you wished everybody would read it?

Recently I have read five books that were on World Magazine’s “books of the year” list. Each book was a good read, but one stood head and shoulders above the pack.

After The Last Border by Jessica Goudeau tells the stories of two women who immigrated to America. I found my heart reaching out to each of these women, one from Myanmar—via a refugee camp in Thailand—and the other from Syria. Between chapters describing their struggles, the author revisits the history of America’s frequently changing immigration policies.

One of the most tragic examples of a broken immigration policy occurred in 1939 when the ocean liner MS St. Louis departed from Europe with 937 Jewish refugees fleeing the Third Reich. Although they had Cuban Visas, upon arrival in Havana, Cuban officials wouldn’t allow them to disembark. When diplomatic negotiations failed The St. Louis sailed to Florida. The passengers and the American press begged President Roosevelt to provide them asylum. Instead the ship was forced to return to Europe where it would release the passengers back into the very situation they had been fleeing. Of the passengers who stood on deck and saw the shores of the United States, over five hundred would be incarcerated in Nazi concentration camps and 254 would die. The voyage came to be called the “voyage of the damned.”

However, six years later, President Truman and the American public pushed for change in our immigration policy. Once again the door opened to welcome the poor, huddled masses fleeing post war Europe.

American immigration policy has been a see-saw between more open borders and closed borders. Sometimes the justification for restrictive policies has been based upon fear such as during the Great Depression when jobs were scarce. Sometimes it was a matter of prejudice against “less desirable” ethnic groups such as the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, the first law banning immigrants from a specific ethnic group. Prior to WW II, the “less desirable” list included Jews and southern Europeans. Charles Lindbergh, spokesman for the America First Committee—established in 1940—advocated rejecting Jews and other nationalities based on eugenics, a philosophy that some races were inferior. Hitler’s Third Reich was based on this same philosophy.

It doesn’t matter where you land on the issue of immigration, please read the book. Like me, you will empathize with these two women as you celebrate their victories and grieve their losses. It may also challenge you to imagine walking in their sandals.

It has been said, “Those who don’t learn from history are bound to repeat it.” The actual statement was probably from George Santayana: “Those who can’t remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

What guidance, then, does God’s Word give us about immigration and immigrants?

Immigrants in the Bible

The Bible uses terms like pilgrim, alien, sojourner or the “stranger among you” to describe an immigrant or refugee.  Abraham became an immigrant when God told him to leave his family and homeland. He lived the rest of his life as a sojourner in the land we now call Israel. After Sarah died, he approached the citizens of Hebron to inquire about purchasing a burial plot for his wife, telling the elders, “I am a sojourner and foreigner among you; give me property among you for a burying place, that I may bury my dead out of my sight.” (Genesis 23:4, ESV)

During a drought-caused-famine in Canaan, Abraham immigrated to Egypt, where the waters of the Nile provided irrigation so there was still food. Once again he became a sojourner.

Having promised to give the land of the Canaanites to Abraham’s descendants, God added that they would live 400 years as sojourners in another land. (Genesis 15:13) Three generations later, Jacob moved his growing family to Egypt to escape yet another famine.  (Genesis 47:4) When he was introduced to Pharaoh, Jacob responded, “The days of my sojourning is 130 years.”  That’s a lifetime—a long lifetime—to never have a homeland.

One of Jacob’s sons became an immigrant when his brothers sold him to slave traders. Joseph didn’t become a refugee fleeing a famine, he was the victim of slavery. Violence and human trafficking continue to create refugees today.

Abraham’s descendants became slaves due to fear and prejudice among their Egyptian hosts. Moses, adopted by an Egyptian princess, rose to a position of power, but became a refugee when he fled the fury of Pharaoh. We are invited to empathize with Moses when he names his son, Gershom, meaning “I have been  a sojourner—a refugee.” (Exodus 2:22; 18:3)

Even David, fleeing Saul’s violence, became a refugee among Israel’s enemies. Elijah immigrated to Zarephath in Sidon due to famine and King Ahaz’s death threats. (1 Kings 17:8)

Consider these refugees who fled hunger or danger: Rahab’s family (Joshua 6:22, 23) and Naomi (Ruth 1:1) Even Joseph and Mary with infant Jesus were refugees fleeing Herod’s wrath (Matthew 2:13, 14).

Protection for immigrants in the Bible

The older testament consistently demands protection for immigrants and refugees living in Israel. For example, the law of gleanings required them to leave some of the grain standing or fruit hanging after harvest to provide food for the poor, the widows and orphans and the sojourners among them. (See Leviticus 19:9, 10) Every third year an additional tithe (10 percent of all the harvested produce) was required to provide for the Levites (who had no land) and widows, orphans and sojourners (Deuteronomy 14:28, 29; 26:12).

Sojourners, living among the Israelites, were also given equal protection under the Law (Leviticus 24:22; Jeremiah 22:3; Zechariah 7:8-10; Malachi 3:5—with severe warnings).

Refugees and sojourners in the New Testament

Jesus, in Matthew 25:31- 46, used the metaphor of separating sheep from goats at the final judgment. The determination of their destination—inheriting the kingdom or being evicted from the kingdom—is based upon how they treated the most vulnerable: the hungry, the poor, the prisoner and the stranger (sojourner or refugee) among them.

The apostles referred to Christians suffering persecution as sojourners or strangers. Peter addresses his readers as “exiles of the dispersion”—people fleeing persecution—in 1 Peter 1:1. Then, in 2:11 he calls them sojourners and exiles, challenging them to live such godly and honorable lives that their critics would recognize their good deeds and glorify God.

Paul reminded the Ephesian believers that they were once outsiders, alienated from God’s people and hopeless and without God. But, now in Christ, “you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God,” (Ephesians 2:19, ESV) No longer sojourners or pilgrims or refugees or slaves but free citizens and cherished members of God’s family!

I share one more passage that describes a Christian as a pilgrim—someone without a home—but searching for that homeland where they belong. Hebrews 11 is a list of Old Testament believers who lived their lives as pilgrims in search of a homeland. Clinging to God’s promise, yet they “all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland.” (Hebrews 11:13–14, ESV).

That not only described their lives, but ours today. We live in the “in-between-time”. Jesus has gone to prepare the place we will call home for eternity. Meanwhile we live as strangers, sojourners and pilgrims.

Each of us, that are followers of Christ, were once part of those “tired, poor huddled masses yearning to breathe free. We were the wretched refuse, the homeless, the tempest-tossed until one day we heard a voice calling—not from a statue in a harbor, but from the Son of God hanging on a cross: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30, ESV).

God’s immigration policy never changes. The door of opportunity is always open. The Father is always ready to welcome another child into His family.

Perhaps, today is your day to join the family by acknowledging your guilt and sin and accepting God’s gracious offer to forgive you and to welcome you into His family. Here is His promise:

“But to all who did receive him, (Jesus Christ) who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:12–13, ESV) .

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Simeon’s Swan Song

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Christmas 2020 may be history and the Christmas carols may have been put to rest for another year, but the celebration doesn’t need to end.

Today on the Front Porch Swing I want to introduce the fourth song in Luke’s gospel celebrating Jesus’ birth. After describing how Mary pondered all that the shepherds had reported concerning the angels’ announcement, Luke immediately describes the next significant events in the infant Jesus’ brief life: “And at the end of eight days, when he was circumcised, he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.” (Luke 2:21, ESV)

Just like his older cousin, John, Jesus was circumcised and given his official name when he was eight days old. It was more than Jewish tradition, it was the Law.

Forty days after Jesus’ birth, Joseph and Mary brought him to Jerusalem to present the sacrifice required for every first-born male baby. Luke is careful to share that Jesus’ parents offered a pair of turtle doves or pigeons, rather than a lamb, thus revealing that that this young couple were very poor.

Before they could even enter the temple area, with Joseph carrying the caged birds and Mary clinging to her baby, they were accosted by a stranger – a very old man – boldly running toward them.

The Holy Spirit had promised Simeon, the old man, that he would live to see the birth of the promised Messiah. Each morning, I suspect, Simeon would ask God if this might be the day. I imagine him being awakened early that morning and told by the Holy Spirit, “This is the day!” Off he rushed to the temple lest he miss the occasion. Spying the young couple with baby and birds in tow, he was moved by the Spirit to run as fast as his old legs could. I see the old man with tears streaming through his whitened beard as he reaches out to take the baby into his arms. (I wonder what Mary’s thinking. What would any mother think?)

 I envision Mary with fear in her eyes as this stranger pulls the baby away.

Before they could respond, the old man began to speak. Perhaps chanting like a rabbi pronouncing a Sabbath blessing. The old man’s hands trembled, more from anticipation than old age, but his voice was strong and steady as he pronounced a blessing over baby Jesus, a blessing inspired by the same Holy Spirit that had spoken through old Zechariah when John was circumcised.

Now, thanks to Dr. Luke, we can still ponder the lyrics after 2000 years:

 “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation
that you have prepared in the presence of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and for glory to your people Israel. (Luke 2:29–32, ESV)

Simeon begins with a resolution, “Now, I am ready to die in peace.” His weary old eyes gazed upon the baby that would become the promised savior of the world. For Gentiles, blindly searching for God in all the wrong places, this baby would bring light and knowledge of the one true God. Mary’s baby, now in Simeon’s arms, was the promised “seed of the woman” who would deal the death blow to the evil serpent. The tiny infant was the long expected Messiah that every true Israelite anticipated with the final words at every Passover Seder, “Next year in Jerusalem!”

Having sung his blessing over the baby, Simeon turned his attention the young couple standing before him. His face now heavy with sadness, and turning to Mary adds a warning that “this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”

Do you understand what Simeon has just said?

The birth of a baby should bring joy and happiness. Parents anticipate what the child will become as an adult, and they plan for the child to be there to care for them and bury them. But, Simeon has predicted that the baby will experience conflict and pain and suffer a violent death. All for a good cause: the final and perfect sacrifice for sin so that people like you and me can live with hope and purpose. Mary, intuitive as she is, deposited these words in her heart along with all the wonderful promises she had heard from the shepherds back in Bethlehem.

A popular contemporary Christmas carol asks the question, “Mary did you know…?” I doubt that she understood that, alongside of the rich blessing of being chosen to give birth to the Messiah, she would also experience deep, deep pain and grief.

Fast forward thirty-three years from this scene of a baby in the temple to a cross outside the city walls. There hangs the only truly innocent person that has ever lived. There, suspended in shame and unimaginable pain, is the Son of God. And there stands several women who had loved and followed Jesus. See that older woman, overwhelmed with pain and grief, as she watches the little baby she had swaddled in the manger now shamefully naked and mangled on a Roman cross. Her very soul has been pierced as with a sword. Just like old Simeon has prophesied.

But listen! I hear her son sharing last words. Words like, “John, treat my mother like she was yours.” Or like, “Father, forgive them; they don’t understand what they are doing.” Words like “It is finished.” (His mission to seek and to save the lost is finished. The debt has been paid in full. There would be no more need for the blood of lambs or doves.)

Those words belong in the Christmas story as much as “Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth, good will among people with whom God is pleased.”

That peace has been won once for all through Jesus’ brutal death and amazing resurrection.

I know it’s not in Luke, but I can hear the grandest choir ever assembled standing around a glorious throne singing, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! The Lord God omnipotent reigns forever and ever! Amen.”

Now those truly are Christmas lyrics.