JR. Forasteros - August 17, 2014
Haggai
When we experience crushing tragedy, recovering seems impossible. Often, we build walls inside ourselves, keeping our hearts and souls safe - or so we think. Haggai shows us that in the wake of the Exile, God's people were doing the same. They were neglecting their relationship with God because it was too painful. But Haggai's challenge to them is the same as to us: if we stay behind our walls, we'll slowly die. We must embrace God once again, and when we do, we'll find not a God who is cold, uncaring and distant, but a God who suffers with us, who is working even now to redeem the world.
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Some of you may remember right before the pandemic when I had knee surgery. I had to put no weight on my knee at all for 2 weeks, and keep my knee elevated as much as possible. In practice, that meant I was laying on my back on our couch for 2 straight weeks – getting up only once or twice a day.
And if you think that sounds terrible, it was. But imagine how much worse it was for my wife. She was amazing – she made a whole basket of foods I could reach without having to get up, and before she left for work every day, made sure I had everything I needed – device chargers, remote controls, etc.
In the evenings, if I needed anything, she was quick to get it. She brought me meals, did all the dishes, did all the household chores. Now: I want to ask a hypothetical question (hypothetical because I’m not going to bring her up to the platform and interview her):
Do you think she wanted to do all that?
Like, let’s say I’d been out of town. Do you think she would have spent all her freetime doing chores? Do you think her heart’s deepest desire was to clean up after me and care for me while I was invalid?
Obviously not. She chose to do those things despite the fact that they’re not fun, and not what she would choose to do if she could do anything.
She chose to take care of me because she loved me.
Any of us who have had a friend, parent, kid, spouse or partner who was ill or incapacitated in some way knows what I’m describing.
There’s something about love that transforms otherwise disgusting or difficult. Love doesn’t make those fun – no one likes cleaning up puke – but somehow these acts of service become small in comparison to the love we have for the other person.
I want to talk about divine love, and I wanted to begin with that story of Amanda’s loving service because it’s in acts like that we most clearly see what God’s love looks like.
