Thursday, November 15, 2012

Isn't that Joseph's son?

Years ago, per the request of my mother, I went to the little church called the Lockhart Church of God Holiness to preach (and/or teach) and sing some contemporary Christian tunes on a Wednesday night.

I was eager to show the persons of this church how I had turned out. I don't remember the subject matter, but I do remember I got the idea from a Max Lucado book rather than my own thoughts. I had, at the time, no formal training of any kind, had not actually "preached" and knew nothing of the whole process. I knew only that my mother had asked me to do something on this night.

The other thing I remember, vividly actually, was how much I bombed. The songs did not inspire. The "message" had no message. I relied on "me" far, far too much, and I (for lack of a better word) bombed. Sank like a ship that had been torpedoed. The crowd, in the teens, smiled at me as if I was a stranger in need of deep comfort. I wasn't a stranger, but oh did I need comfort. My zig zagged and my zag was zigging as I sank into the cold depths.

This morning as I read scripture, I was reminded of this story:
"53 When Jesus had finished telling these stories and illustrations, he left that part of the country. 54 He returned to Nazareth, his hometown. When he taught there in the synagogue, everyone was amazed and said, “Where does he get this wisdom and the power to do miracles?” 55 Then they scoffed, “He’s just the carpenter’s son, and we know Mary, his mother, and his brothers—James, Joseph,[f] Simon, and Judas. 56 All his sisters live right here among us. Where did he learn all these things?” 57 And they were deeply offended and refused to believe in him. Then Jesus told them, “A prophet is honored everywhere except in his own hometown and among his own family.” 58 And so he did only a few miracles there because of their unbelief."
 
Some of the things I notice here include these:
1) Nazareth is called his "hometown" though we know that is not the case in the strict sense of the phrase, his having been born in Bethlehem to the south of Nazareth;
2) the word carpenter here could be translated in the Greek as "stone mason," and since there were a small, limited amount of trees in Palestine it would probably have made more sense that Jesus (and his father, Joseph) worked in stone rather than wood;
3) the idea of where his teaching or authority comes from is again brought up; Rabbis didn't grow on trees; they were educated; Jesus was not, in the strict sense of the word;
4) the idea of what the people were doing in terms of the strength of their faith is tied in this passage to what sort of miracles are done; the stronger the faith, the greater the miracle;
5) and finally, Jesus' very famous statement ... 'A prophet is honored everywhere except in his own hometown and among his own family' is stated here.' Because the people of Nazareth knew Jesus, his parents, his siblings, they didn't believe he could be the Messiah. Their lack of faith limits the size of the miracle, the passage says.
 
When I went to my mother's church that night, with aunts and cousins still making up the most of the congregation, I felt little success was possible. Truthfully, I had a hard time imagining on that Wednesday night, that I could change the way they believed. I knew them. I knew their background. I knew what I believed to be the depth of their faith, and I certainly knew what I believed to be the depth of my own (which was a fresh slice of faith at the time).
 
As I spoke, the feeling I get sometimes when things are going well and I sense the words making their way into the hearts of those who are listening (and that truly does happen) was not happening -- at all. I spoke, and the words fought their way toward the heart of the listeners as if they were drones flying over Iran.
 
But I sensed whatever that long ago mystery topic I was speaking about was having no effect at all. Nada. The message wasn't affecting, changing, motivating or even causing any of the listeners to think about it at all. The songs were skin deep at best, bouncing off rough country skin at best.
 
I was done long before I was done.
 
I understand, somehow, that the words I type most days have little impact on the strangers who read them. If there was any one thing I wish I could change about what is now the way I live, it would be the ability to affect changed hearts coming more often and consistently.
 
I understand, somehow, that the words are mere carriers of the Gospel, not the Gospel itself. I wished I could impact the world each time I choose to speak or am asked to. There are times when I see the feeling behind the fabric, the wizard behind the veil.
 
But the simple truth is there are times when I speak, preach, pray and the words are nothing more than time-killers. Never was that more true than the time I went "home." In Luke, the crowd said of what Jesus did, "How can this be? Isn't this Joseph's son." Jesus said to the crowd, "You will undoubtedly quote me this proverb: 'Physcian, heal thyself -- meaning 'Do miracles here in your hometown like those you did in Capernaum.'
 
Jesus knew himself, and he knew the crowd. He said, "A prophet is honored everywhere except in his own hometown and among his own family."
 
Jesus preached to the masses. In Nazareth, he preached to the few in the fields, and even they didn't "get him" or his message. 
 
They saw no Messiah. They saw Joseph's son. My former friends wonder where the guy they used to know all those years ago went.
 
What do do? Move along, I suspect. Make the best of the situation. Heal, preach, pray, teach, love.
 
At the end of the tale in Luke, the synagogue participants were furious. They attempted to force Jesus to the edge of a hill and push him over the cliff. The Bible says, however, he passed through the crowd and went on his way.
 
Heal, preach, pray, teach, love. Even in our hometowns.

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