There was just no way Joshua could logically explain his battle plan to take Jericho. God told Joshua exactly what he wanted him to do. Can you picture Joshua trying to relate the plan to his generals?

"Well, we’re going to march around the city."

"Then what?"

"We’re going to do it seven times."

"Uh huh, then?"

"We’re going to blow the trumpets and make a lot of noise."

"Really?"

"Then the walls are going to fall down."

They probably thought Joshua had battle fatigue. But as the trumpets blasted on the seventh trip around, the walls began to crumble. God wouldn’t let Joshua down when he trusted in him.

Solomon, one of the wisest of the wise, said that the mark of wisdom is to put your trust in the Lord. However bright we might be, whatever our many gifts and talents, they do not compare with those of Almighty God. To put our trust in the Lord and have him guide our lives is the smart thing to do. To others such an act of confidence in the Lord might seem as foolish as Joshua’s battle plans.

The Christian life is not difficult; it’s impossible. Jesus said, "Without me you can do nothing." When life came crashing in upon Martin Luther, he would shout, "Christ is risen! He lives! He lives!" In this way Luther reminded himself that the same power of God which raised Jesus from the dead was now his. With God’s help he could meet and overcome his problems ... however large they were.

If God is powerful enough to create the universe and raise a dead man, he is able to help us handle whatever difficulties life throws our way. Do the smart thing - trust in the Lord.

The Hebrew people knew that Moses was on Mount Sinai, but it seemed to them that he had been gone much longer than necessary. All manner of mummerings arose within the ranks. Had he deserted them? Had something happened to him? Finally, it was decided that they would raise up Aaron as their new leader. Moreover, an idol fashioned in the form of a golden bull was set in their midst as the new object of worship. Unexpectedly, Moses returned. The scene which followed included at least three emphases:

1. Pronouncement. God utters a blistering assessment of the Hebrew people: "I have seen this people, and behold, it is a stiff-necked people" (32:9). Then follows an expression of his intention; "Now therefore let me alone, that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them" (32:10). As the Revelator was to put it centuries later, Israel had "forgotten its first love." Even as Moses was on the mountain top receiving the Ten Commandments, the people were fawning around the golden idol which had been fashioned from their own jewelry. It had been remarked that the people were just out of slavery ... they were tired of waiting on Moses to return to them ... they wanted to celebrate somehow and thank somebody. Not yet understanding the character of Moses’ God, they manufactured their own god to enable them to focus their celebration upon something. I believe the observation is correct inasmuch as we see latter-day versions of similar behavior, i.e., persons who want to celebrate life but are unable to understand the God of Christianity take unto themselves golden calves in some form or another. There are different causes of a stiff neck. Some are caused by sleeping in a draft, some are congenital, others due to injury or disease, and still others by arrogance and stubbornness. It is the latter malady to which God is referring in 32:9, the neck so stiff that it cannot bow to God. At the time of God’s pronouncement to Moses, the Hebrew people were in fact, in the words of Jonathan Edwards, "sinners in the hands of an angry God."

2. Intercession. Moses did not attempt to excuse his people, but instead undertook to intercede for them. He went to God in their behalf. I remember the story of the frail little country boy whose parents were so poor that they could not feed their family properly. The little boy , always undernourished, was sluggish and scarcely felt up to completing his assignments at school. One day the teacher announced the assignment and warned that anyone not completing it would be punished. Sure enough, the pale little youth failed to turn his work in when it was due. The teacher called him forward to the desk and told him to bend over. His hollow eyes looked helplessly at her as his bony body braced itself for a whipping. As he bent over, the bones in his back made little ridges in his shirt and his baggy pants were evidence of skinny legs and a tiny waist. The teacher raised the paddle. Suddenly, a little boy raised his hand and said, "Teacher, can I take his whipping for him?" That is a secular case of intercession. A theological case is "and while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us," and as the letter to the Hebrews suggests, Christ is "eternally interceding in our behalf."

3. Mercy. Certainly God was angry with the Hebrew people, just as he is vexed and saddened by those of us who become so stiff-necked that we cannot bow in an attitude of gratefulness for his leadership in our lives and the grace which always goes before us. It is often remarked, "When I stand before God in the judgment, I won’t ask for justice, I will ask for mercy." To be sure, none of us could survive the justice, but because of God’s promise to Moses, and the intercession of Christ, we do believe that there is hope for the sinner because a part of God’s character is mercy.

Several years ago while conducting a Senior Youth Retreat, I led the group in an activity called a "Trust Walk." Participants paired up and each took a turn leading the other blindfolded throughout the retreat facility. I also had a partner and took my turn. For approximately twenty minutes I was led by the hand around tables and chairs, up and down steps, throughout the building. Something remarkable happened to me when I trusted my life, so to speak, into the hands of my young partner. In those short twenty minutes, a beautiful feeling developed toward that person, a closeness, a need for her. Even when the blindfold came off, I felt that I wanted to get better acquainted. I continued to feel positive feelings for my partner.

Throughout the Book of Psalms God encourages us to take a trust walk with him. Jesus says to all of us, "Trust in me. I love you so much. I want to help you. Wherever you are hurting, let me bring healing. Some of you are not sure and continue to believe that you must handle your own problems! In some cases you may have some success, but there is a better way. Doing it your way is not the better way. And don’t be afraid of leaning. Lean on me," Jesus says. "There is no concern too insignificant for my attention. And when you pray, remember that my Father is there listening. Pray boldly, yes, asking the Father to meet your needs. Also pray trusting that his wisdom surpasses yours. He’s not going to lead you into any walls or crashing down any steps."

When Sir Walter Raleigh, the famed explorer, was on the scaffold awaiting imminent death, he is said to have had a short talk with the axeman. The executioner told his prisoner that the block would be more comfortable if he turned his head the other way. "My friend," said Sir Walter Raleigh, "it matters little how the head lies so long as the heart is right." To accept the Lord Jesus as our personal Savior and to trust in him puts the heart right once and for all, for time and eternity. Problems, even imminent death, are handled more gracefully when we walk through life trusting in the Lord.

If you are not currently on a trust walk with the Lord, let me suggest that you begin one right now. Your partner is ready and waiting - his hand is reaching out for yours. There’s but one simple thing to do ... take it.

Some of us can learn mercy by reading about it in the Bible. Many more of us, however, learn mercy by taking the plunge and doing it.

Such was the case with Sister Helen Prejean. Her story is told in the book Dead Man Walking, which recently came out in film. Sister Helen hears one day of a correspondence program with prisoners on death row. She decides to participate and begins writing, even though she's been told not to expect to hear anything in return. Much to her surprise, though, one of the prisoners does respond and catches her completely off guard by asking her to be his spiritual guide. Apparently his execution date was fast approaching, and he wanted some representative of God to be there for support over the next several weeks.

Sister Helen hesitates. It is one thing to do charity long distance. It is quite another thing to do mercy face to face with a convicted murderer. Gary had been sentenced to death by lethal injection for participating in the brutal rape of a young woman and the subsequent murder of both her and her finance. Sister Helen recoils at the very thought of meeting this rapist and murderer, let alone ministering to him. But a voice deep inside of her tells her she must go. So she does. The first several meetings are difficult. Gary comes across a whole lot more cocky and arrogant in person than he did in his letters. He refuses to admit his guilt and insists that he is the innocent victim of a corrupt legal system.

To make matters worse, Sister Helen is despised and publicly villified by the victims' parents for even spending time with Gary. How could she, a deeply religious nun, befriend this cold-blooded murderer! They are horrified and let her know that every time they see her. And yet, despite these difficult barriers, Sister Helen risks her name, her reputation, her own safety, to reach across them and embrace Gary with the love of God. And the more she perseveres in loving him, the more his defenses begin to crumble. Finally on the night before his execution, Gary confesses to his crime and asks for God's forgiveness. In a flood of tears, he thanks Sister Helen for all her love and support. He then tries to send her home, insisting that her work with him is done and that he is now ready to meet his Maker.

"No, that's okay," she responds. "I'll stay through the execution."

"But why?" Gary wants to know. "I'm only getting what I deserve."

"Because," she replies, "the last face I want you to see before you die is not one of hatred and vengeance, but one of love and mercy."

The next morning, Gary is strapped into place while Sister Helen and the victims' parents watch through the window of an adjacent room. Within a matter of minutes, the last lethal dose is injected and Gary is pronounced dead. Most of the by-standers breathe a sigh of relief. Some even begin to applaud. But Sister Helen alone stands there - with arms reaching out to Gary and a look of pure mercy on her face.

Some of us learn mercy by reading about it in our Bibles. But most of us, like Sister Helen Prejean, learn mercy by just doing it to those who least deserve it - to those who are unclean, who are despised and rejected by society. Learning Mercy . . .

A man from El Paso lived a good four miles from the main parade ground at Fort Bliss. On most mornings you could hear the whump, whump, whump of the thirteen-gun salute which was sounded every morning at seven o'clock. But on some mornings you could hear the sound of the drum corps as they rolled their cadences.

However, if the morning was clear and still, as in the winter time when the air was crisp and cold, you could also hear the sound of the music of the army band, the blast of the trumpets, the wail of the clarinets, and the mellow tone of the horns.

On the mornings where only the cannon could be heard, the man knew the drum and the horns were still there, whether they were heard or not.

Our fathers, in their theology, heard the cannon and the drum, the stirring of the wrath of God. Modern ears have heard the soft music of the flute and the horn, but have not listened for the cannon and the drum.

Leslie Weatherhead in his book, A Private House Of Prayer, suggests that the structure of the content of prayer be likened to a house of seven rooms. Each room is a division of prayer. There may be some duplication with ACTSS which we just discussed.

The first room is for the affirmation of God's presence. If prayer is a conversation with God, obviously it is necessary for him to be present. When we pray, are we aware of his presence or like Moses do we see only a burning bush? In a hymn Tersteegen sings, "God himself is present; let us now adore him and with awe appear before him." What applies to worship, applies also to prayer. When we pray, we are talking to a real person, not to an idea, or ideal, or ideology, or a theological concept. In prayer we are not talking to ourselves or to the ceiling. In spirit God is there to hear our prayer. We need to realize this and pray accordingly.

The next room is for the thanksgiving and praise. We have been blessed beyond measure and therefore to thank and praise God is in order. Before we begin our prayer, we need to review how good God has been to us. If we are bereft of blessings, our greatest gift is Jesus who loved us enough to die for us.

Go to the next room for the confession of sins. Sin separates us from God. Sin erects an impenetrable curtain which prevents us from seeing God. The separation prevents our hearing the voice of God. We come out of a dirty world with the dirt of sin clinging to us. Before we can be presentable to a holy God we need spiritual cleansing. Thus, in prayer we confess our sins and plead for his mercy.

The fourth room is labelled "Reception of God's grace." We have confessed our sins and begged for mercy. What is God's response? It is grace in terms of pardon and acceptance. At this time in our prayers we remember his promises to be with us always, to forgive us, and to bless us with the Holy Spirit.

Now it is time to go to the room of petition. We have the opportunity to tell God about our personal needs in our own lives, or in our family, or in our work. But, we have petitions not only for ourselves, but others want and need our prayers in their behalf. This takes us to the sixth room of prayer. When we pray for others, it is called intercessory prayer. When his co-worker, Melanchthon, was sick, Luther prayed for him: "I besought the Almighty with great vigor ... quoting from Scripture all the promises I could remember, that prayers should be granted and said that he must grant my prayer, if I was henceforth to put faith in his promises."

The effectiveness of a friend's prayer on our behalf depends on the relationship of the pray-er to God. James wrote, "The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective" (James 5:16). That is why we want a godly mother or a pious pastor to pray for us. Roman Catholics ask the saints and the Virgin Mary to pray for them. On the eve of a historic boxing match, a friend was visiting the champ in his hotel suite. During the conversation a murmuring feminine voice was heard. "That's my wife," the champ explained. "She's praying for me to win." "Oh, and I suppose you pray, too?" The champ replied, "My wife is more devout than I am. If God won't do it for her, He certainly won't do it for me."

The seventh room in the house of prayer is meditation. Some do not understand what meditation is and consequently do not know how to meditate. It is the act of reflecting, of silence, and listening to God. It calls for thinking about God and our relationship to him. It is a time to review past dealings with God. Then we reflect on how good God has been in those past dealings. After that, we remember God's promises to us: promises of peace, protection, and provision. Meditation can be summed up in three R's: review, reflect, and remember.

After the tomb was found empty and Jesus appeared to the early church on many occasions, doubt disappeared, and the early church had overwhelming confidence in the Lord. The church today must live and be about its ministry with the same Easter confidence. We say we rely on God’s mercy for our salvation; we need to give over all areas of our lives to God’s control. What aspects of ourselves are outside God’s control? Our temper? Our money? Our time? We need join the psalmist and say, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Our trust in the Lord must be complete. We are no longer defeated people but powerful Easter people. Little children in danger or in despair literally run and throw themselves into the arms of their mother. This is confident faith. When was the last time we ran and thrust ourselves onto the Lord? A cautious step in his direction is better than none at all, but believing with abandonment is called forth by an empty tomb. God wants us to fall head over heels in love with him so he can bring the greatest joy and purpose possible into our lives.

God also encourages us to hold fast to hope without wavering. Scripture says, "Where there is no hope, the people perish." Too many of us view too much of our lives and the world as hopeless. Without hope, no great strides will be made in the future; there is no venturesome faith without hope. Without hope we burrow into the ground and live the life of a mole instead of walking freely in God’s sunlight. In a difficult situation, a hopeful people find the challenge and opportunity to do something great with God.

Confident in our faith, with an unwavering hope, the Lord also encourages us to stir up one another to love and good works. We must do something. Faith and hope must move from the abstract to the particular.

Easter people are called upon to celebrate the Festival of the Resurrection each Sunday, for each Sunday is a little Easter. "... Not neglecting to meet together," is how it is written in Hebrews. To break fellowship with the worshiping community is to pursue a weakening faith. It is also a form of denial of all that Christ means. True faith, strong faith, is never faith in isolation but must always be faith shared and strengthened through regular worship. We must encourage one another to be regular in worship and strong in the faith.

The end is drawing near. The Lord will return soon to reclaim his fallen creation. When the Lord of the church comes again, how will he find us? Will we be acting like people who have been touched by the meaning of the cross and the empty tomb? Therefore, let us continue to draw near to the Lord with a true heart and a confident faith. We hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering. We consider how to stir up one another to love and good works. We do not neglect to worship but encourage one another. In sum, we will all be Easter people.

God moves in mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
And big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.

Born almost a decade ago in Yugoslavia, she responded to God's call on her life while still a teenager. A missionary's strong challenge to give her life to teaching in India resulted in her appointment to the city of Calcutta. Some months later she saw a sight which completely revolutionized her life, and would ultimately bring her worldwide fame as Good Housekeeping magazine's "Most-Admired-Woman" selection. What was the sight? A homeless, dying woman lying in the gutter, being eaten by rats. Compassion compelled her to beg an abandoned Hindu temple from the government, and convert it into a crude make-shift hospital for the dying. A comment of hers became her life's thrust: "If there is a God in heaven, and a Christ we love, nobody should die alone." This woman who established colonies for over 10,000 lepers in 28 cities was interviewed by Malcolm Muggeridge from the BBC News. "Mother Teresa, the thing I noticed about you and the hundreds of sisters who now form your team is that you all look so happy. Is that a put-on?" She replied, "Oh no, not at all. Nothing makes you happier than when you really reach out in mercy to someone who is badly hurt.”

Service is its own reward. True mercy begets genuine joy.

"Those who choose evil shall have their choice. Men who hate divine mercy shall not have it forced upon them, but (unless sovereign grace interpose) shall be left to themselves to aggravate their guilt and ensure their doom.

"They have loved darkness rather than light, and in darkness they shall abide. Eyes which see no beauty in the Lord Jesus, but flash wrath upon Him, may well grow yet more dim, till death which is spiritual leads to death which is eternal.

"What can be too severe a penalty for those who reject the incarnate God, and refuse to obey the commands of His mercy? They deserve to be flooded with wrath, and they shall be; for upon all who rebel against the Savior, 'wrath has come upon them to the uttermost' (I Thessalonians 2:16).

"God's indignation is no trifle. The anger of a holy, just, omnipotent, and infinite Being, is above all things to be dreaded; even a drop of it consumes, but to have it poured upon us is inconceivably dreadful."

He, Jesus, is the friend on whom we can rely in all things. Ralph Earle, the great biblical scholar who taught at Kansas City's Nazarene Theological Seminary and helped edit The New International Version of the Bible, often told the story of John G. Paton who was a pioneer missionary to the New Hebrides. Dr. Paton soon discovered that while the natives had words for house, tree, stone, and the like, they had no words for love, joy, and peace. Worst of all, they had no word for believe. One day as he sat in his hut filled with frustration, an old native entered and slumped down in a chair. Exhausted from a long journey, the man said, "I'm leaning my whole weight on this chair." "What did you say?" asked Dr. Paton. The man repeated, "I'm leaning my whole weight on this chair." Immediately, Dr. Paton cried, "That's it!" And from that day forward for that primitive tribe, "Believe in Jesus" became "Lean your whole weight on Jesus."

No one else can bear the weight of our trust. As the Psalmist simply prescribed, "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes" (Psalm 118:8-9 NIV).

The classic quote on mercy is that of Portia in Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene I, lines 186-197.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than its crown;
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself,·
And earthly power doth then show likest
God's When mercy seasons justice.

I believe it was the Mills Brothers who made popular the song, "You Always Hurt the One You Love." Fighting is one of the realities of married life. Unfortunately, most of us do not handle it well. Fighting is a negative way of communicating some very strong feelings. If we accept the premise that the point of all communication is to get closer to each other, then we might seek more constructive and positive ways of communicating our strong feelings rather than destructive fighting. Although space doesn’t permit us to consider all the suggestions for what I call "good fighting," let me mention just a few. Discover what you are really fighting about. What’s really underneath it all, then stick to the subject, don’t bring up past history. No name calling. Remember you are fighting with the one you love - hurt her and you are hurting yourself and your marriage.

Back to the Mills Brothers ... if we are able to hurt the one we love more than anyone else, then we, as a spouse, have the greatest ability to bring healing to our relationship. If we really want to heal the other person, we can. Healing not only after fights but throughout life. Healing comes through a gentle touch or by saying "I’m sorry" and really meaning it. Healing also comes through forgiving one another and accepting each other’s limitations.

Jesus Christ is the greatest facilitator of healing in marriage. He gives us the power to forgive our spouse - not because he/she deserves it but because he/she needs it. We forgive not only for his sake but for our sake and for our marriage’s sake. For marriage is something that we are in together, and when one or the other is hurting, both of us are hurting, and our marriage is hurting.

Those who are wise, work hard at their marriages. Those who are wiser work hard too, but they also invite God’s help in loving each other. If God wants your marriage to work, and he certainly does, then he is anxious to give you whatever you need to make it work. Both of you must keep strong in the Lord. There is a little Christian saying that goes, "When I try, I fail. When I trust, He succeeds." The best thing we can do in our marriage is not try so hard but to trust even harder.

As people, there will be those moments when we cannot help but express negative feelings to our spouse. Be careful not to try to hurt the person, but rather attempt to express how his/her actions are hurting you. Tell it like it is. Don’t hold back. But let the Lord help you share your strong communication in a loving manner. When you have a fight, have a good one.

The following incident is vouched for by a Church of England clergyman who knew all the circumstances:

A young woman, who had been brought up in a Christian home and who had often had very serious convictions in regard to the importance of coming to Christ, chose instead to take the way of the world. Much against the wishes of her godly mother, she insisted on keeping company with a wild, hilarious crowd, who lived only for the passing moment and tried to forget the things of eternity. Again and again she was pleaded with to turn to Christ, but she persistently refused to heed the admonitions addressed to her.

Finally, she was taken with a very serious illness. All that medical science could do for her was done in order to bring about her recovery, but it soon became evident that the case was hopeless and death was staring her in the face. Still she was hard and obdurate when urged to turn to God in repentance and take the lost sinner's place and trust the lost sinner's Saviour.

One night she awoke suddenly out of a sound sleep, a frightened look in her eyes, and asked excitedly, "Mother, what is Ezekiel 7:8,9?"

Her mother said, "What do you mean, my dear?"

She replied that she had had a most vivid dream. She thought there was a Presence in the room, who very solemnly said to her, "Read Ezekiel 7:8,9." Not recalling the verses in question, the mother reached for a Bible. As she opened it, her heart sank as she saw the words, but she read them aloud to the dying girl:

"Now I will shortly pour out my fury upon thee, and accomplish mine anger upon thee: and I will judge thee according to thy ways, and will recompense thee for all thine abominations. And mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity: I will recompense thee according to thy ways and thine abominations that are in the midst of thee; and ye shall know that I am the Lord that smiteth."

The poor sufferer, with a look of horror on her face, sank back on the pillow, utterly exhausted, and in a few moments she was in eternity. Once more it had been demonstrated that grace rejected brings judgment at last.

In a large attractive office in a major city, a man worked for several months next to a small attractive woman. He had been there only a few days when he thought he'd ask her to lunch, which he did. The following day he asked her for dinner and they began a long dating relationship. They went to craft fairs together, since he liked to do that. They went to the ocean, which he also liked to do. They used to take long walks along the river.

He liked this relationship. He had lived for many years with his mother. In fact, it was only a few months after she died that he began dating his co-worker. Little by little, however, she began to dislike both the relationship and this man. She felt like she really wasn't herself when she was with him. She couldn't speak what she really felt. She rarely asserted where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. She later said, "I just wasn't Sandra with him."

So she terminated her social, dating relationship with this man. Once she did, she began to feel like herself again. Her friends told her, "You're more like the old Sandra now."

Across the same town, in another office, a young man sat at his desk for eight years, struggling to manage his office work force. Outside he was a friendly, generous person. In the office he was the same way and his workers flattened him out, like steamrollers over an asphalt road. He worked long, long hours; he holed himself up behind his desk to keep all the records accurate; he just about wore himself out. Finally his friends told him, "Steve, you'd better get out of that job. You're not yourself anymore. Those people are eating you alive and you're not getting anywhere."

He protested, "But it's a good job. I make good money. And besides, it is what I do best. How can I even look for anything else?"

Then the company was sold. New management came in. All the supervisors were replaced and Steve found himself on the street. He was terrified. "To dig I am unable, to beg I am ashamed," he said. "What can I do?"

His friends told him they were glad he was fired. "At least you are your old self," they said. "And you'll find something. Just go for it." He did, and now he's doing better than he ever could have in the position he once felt he could never leave.

The steward in today's gospel lesson is like both Sandra and Steve. Sandra was not herself in that relationship. Steve was not himself in that job. Both were wasting away, losing that which was most precious to them both: their proper identities. Both felt they could not survive if they gave up something so close and precious as a relationship or a job.

In today's gospel lesson the steward's master calls him on the carpet. In Luke's mind, this Lord and Master is God. God always calls his stewards into question when they are wasteful of who and what they are. This steward is not just wasting his master's goods. The steward is wasting himself. Nothing is more precious in God's household than his steward's proper identity. This is God's gift to this steward, and he is wasting it. No wonder God calls him to account.

God does this to us all the time. He checks our relationships and he checks our jobs -- to help us make sure we are not wasting our identities where we are. This steward was. So God dismissed him. He had to get a new job and a new relationship. God does not tolerate our wasting who we are.

This dismissal turned the light on for the steward. "What shall I do? To dig I am unable, to beg I am ashamed." Finally he came to an assessment of who he was and what he could do. He came to value his own identity, one of his master's most precious goods.

He called in his master's creditors. "How much do you owe? One hundred barrels of oil? Take your bill and write 50." Did he cheat his master? Not at all. The commercial documents from that time indicate that 50 percent was the normal commission. He renounced what he thought he had to have to live on -- and he won friends for himself in so doing.

"How much do you owe? One hundred bushels of wheat? Take your bill and write 80." He did not cheat his master. He simply renounced his own commission. He gave up what he thought he needed to survive, and he survived much better without it. He zeroed in on his own identity, rather than on the commission he thought he had to have to survive.

Bruno Bettelheim, who has studied the survivors of the concentration camps in World War II, writes that those who survived were able to give up everything they thought they needed and, in so giving, they survived. Those who thought they would die if they had no clothing, no jewelry, no regular food, no books -- they did not make it.

Sometimes God will do to us what he did to this steward. He will strip us down to the very core of our existence to make us discover who we really are. He will bring us to a crossroad in life where we will be forced to say, "To dig I am not able, to beg I am ashamed." There God will reveal to us who we are. As we reach to him for help we will find ourselves renouncing our commissions -- whatever we think we need to survive but we really don't. God knows that.

Luther found himself in this position many times in his life. Once, as he began his study of law, he was struck down in a thunderstorm. Terrified, he cried out, "Dear Saint Ann, help me. I will become a monk." He quit his study of law and became a theologian instead -- the identity God wanted for him in the first place. He was wasting himself in law.

Later on, as a monk, he studied Paul's Epistle to the Romans. At that time in his life he felt he could not be Martin Luther unless he ended each day with a tray full of good works to present to God. In praying over Paul, he learned the difference between works righteousness and faith. He learned he was wasting God's gift of Martin Luther's identity in that daily tray full of good works.

He wrote: "Night and day I pondered until I saw the connection between the justice of God and the statement that the just shall live by faith. Then I grasped that the justice of God is that righteousness by which through mercy and sheer grace God justified us through faith. Thereupon I felt myself to be reborn and to have gone through open doors into paradise." Martin Luther the Do-Gooder was reborn Martin Luther the Believer.

Today's gospel lesson introduces that curious term, "mammon," an Aramaic word which means: "that in which I put my trust." We are like Sandra, Steve, and this steward. How easy to put all our trust in relationships or commissions or a job. God will not let us do that forever. He will force us to give up those people and those things we feel are absolutely critical. In God's eyes they are roadblocks to the truth. He will take them away. Then we will discover our real identities as God's stewards, and him alone shall we serve. "

In Dr. R. Alan Culpepper's commentary on Luke, he ends the first two parables in Luke 15 with the following observation:

In both parables, rejoicing calls for celebration, and the note of celebration may be exaggerated to emphasize the point. Neither sheep nor coins can repent, but the parable aims not at calling the "sinners" to repentance but at calling the "righteous" to join the celebration. Whether one will join the celebration is all-important because it reveals whether one's relationships are based on merit or mercy. Those who find God's mercy offensive cannot celebrate with the angels when a sinner repents. Thus they exclude themselves from God's grace.

I think that this is a very important question for churches today. More than one congregational member has not rejoiced over the influx of new members in the congregation. The non-rejoicing criticism seems especially prevalent when the "found" are somehow different from the mainstream members.

Many believers don’t see the importance of regular church attendance. Members of Northend Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Seattle received a special announcement in the mail, listing the many things that would be done for them at church on the following “no-excuse-to-stay-home Sunday.”

According to the pastor, cots would be available for those who say Sunday is their only day to sleep. Eye drops would be supplied for those who have red eyes from watching late Saturday-night TV shows. There would be steel helmets for those who say the roof would cave in if they ever went to church, blankets for persons who think the church is too cold, fans for those who say it is too hot, scorecards for those wishing to list all the hypocrites present, TV dinners for those who can’t go to church and also cook dinner. Finally, the sanctuary would be decorated with Christmas poinsettias and Easter lilies for those who have never seen the church without them. 

The love of God is indescribable but a old Jewish legend does a pretty good job. It describes what happened when God created man. The legend says God took into counsel the Angels that stood about his throne. The Angel of Justice said; 'Create him not … for if you do he will commit all kinds of wickedness against his fellow man; he will be hard and cruel and dishonest and unrighteous.'  The Angel of Truth said, 'Create him not … for he will be false and deceitful to his brother and even to Thee.'  The Angel of Holiness stood and said; 'Create him not … he will follow that which is impure in your sight, and dishonor you to your face.'

Then stepped forward the Angel of Mercy, God's most beloved, angel, and said; 'Create him, our Heavenly Father, for when he sins and turns from the path of right and truth and holiness I will take him tenderly by the hand, and speak loving words to him, and then lead him back to you.'

O God, you do not wish any sinner to die, but want all people to turn from their sins and live.  We pray for our sinful brother, forgiving all his wrong-doing and turning his heart towards you.  By his own merits he deserves only punishment, but in your mercy we pray that you will bestow upon him eternal life.

In a cathedral in Copenhagen, Denmark, there is a magnificent statue of Jesus by the noted sculptor Bertel Thorvaldsen. When Thorvaldsen first completed the sculpture he gazed upon the finished product with great satisfaction. It was a sculpture of Christ with face looking upward and arms extended upward. It was a statue of a majestic, conquering Christ.

Later that night, however, after the sculptor had left his fine new work in clay to dry and harden, something unexpected occurred. Sea mist seeped into the studio in the night. The clay did not harden as quickly as anticipated. The upraised arms and head of the sculpture began to drop. The majestic Christ with arms lifted up and head thrown back was transformed into a Christ with head bent forward and arms stretched downward as if in a pose of gentle invitation. At first Thorvaldsen was bitterly disappointed. As he studied the transformed sculpture, however, he came to see a dimension of Christ that had not been real to him before. It was the Christ who is a gently, merciful Savior. Thorvaldsen inscribed on the base of the completed statue, "Come Unto Me," and that picture of the Lamb of God in his mercy has inspired millions.

O God, our Heavenly Father, protect and bless us. Deepen and
strengthen our love for each other day by day. Grant that by Thy
mercy neither of us ever say one unkind word to the other.
Forgive and correct our faults, and make us constantly to forgive
one another should one of us unconsciously hurt the other. Make
us and keep us sound and well in body, alert in mind, tender in
heart, devout in spirit. O Lord, grant us each to rise to the
other's best. Then we pray Thee add to our common life such
virtues as only Thou canst give. And so, O Father, consecrate
our life and our love completely to Thy worship, and to the
service of all about us, especially those whom Thou has appointed
us to serve, that we may always stand before Thee in happiness
and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Have you ever stopped to examine weeds? They serve as a reminder of judgment, a result of the curse on the ground after the fall of Adam. But if you look closely, you can see signs of mercy in that judgment. Some weeds have gorgeous flowers: tiny blue bells, ruffled purple blooms, and even magnificent displays of gold. In the same way—even in trials or discipline—if we look closely, we can see beautiful signs of God’s mercy.

"Mom, why am I called Samuel?" The boy asked the question one day during the evening meal. Nervously she toyed with her dinner napkin. She hadn't dared tell anyone for fear that they would think her foolish. After all, she lives in the modern world, not the world populated by Old Testament characters. All of her friends knew that for years she had tried everything possible in order to be able to have children.

First there were the specialists who insisted on taking all sorts of tests, making all sorts of observations, and trying to figure out what the biological impediment was. Then there were the endless sessions with counselors trying to find out whether or not there were emotional blocks. Other counselors had indicated that perhaps her concerns about her husband were interfering with conception. The list of tests and the observations seemed to go on without end.

Almost unconsciously she kept going to church. Every week she would be in her regular place. Every week she sang the hymns, prayed the prayers and joined in the celebrations of the church. She also prayed silently that God would be able to work a miracle. Yes, she had a certain amount of trust in the miracles of science and medicine. She would hardly have been willing to discount the insights of psychologists. But if anyone had bothered to ask her what she really trusted she would have had to say that she really trusts in the power of God.

Among some of her friends this was a little too much. "Surely you don't think that prayer itself will make much difference, do you?" they would ask. "Surely you don't intend on trusting something you can't see or measure?" said others. In fact, she had overheard one acquaintance suggest that perhaps she was getting a little too involved in the church.

Nevertheless, she kept her doctor appointments and remained active in the church.

At length she and her husband received the great, long-anticipated news. Her pregnancy test revealed that she would indeed have a baby.

The name, what should the child's name be? Should they name the child after a favorite aunt? an uncle? perhaps a friend. No, the now-expectant mother knew what the child's name would be. It would have to come from the Bible, maybe the Old Testament. If it's a boy, then Samuel would be his name.

Years later, when the boy had gotten old enough to wonder, he asked one day, "Mom, why is my name Samuel?" her answer came softly, "Son, everyone else may say that you are the result of modern science and medicine. But your father and I are convinced that you are a gift from God. So we called you Samuel which means 'I have asked of the Lord,' You are an answer to prayer."

In 1932 an out-of-work jazz musician, Thomas Dorsey, almost gave up trying to eke out a living. He was on the brink of disbelief, but God's still small voice called him back to life. Dorsey decided he would sing instead of sorrowing, he would love instead of hate, he would trust instead of disbelieve. His hymn sings:

Precious Lord take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light;
Take my hand precious Lord,
Lead me home.

Detours, when we get off the main road, can be frustrating and time consuming. Yet in the spiritual life, God seems to allow us to be detoured. One of the longest detours of all time happened to the children of Israel in the wilderness. What should have taken them eleven days to enter the Promised Land turned into a forty-year detour in the desert. That detour was due to their deplorable lack of faith in God's conquering power.

On the other hand, there were those who may have thought they were being detoured by God, but who later found they were on God's perfect road of blessing all along. Consider:

• Moses was detoured into submission. Those forty years in the wilderness tending sheep were not a waste, but actually a training ground for tending Israel later on. The desert experience took all the trust in the arm of flesh out of Moses (Exodus 3,4).
• Paul was detoured into learning. "I went into Arabia...then after three years I went up to Jerusalem" (Galatians 1:17,18). Those years were good for Paul, so that he might learn of Christ and be trained for service.
• Philip was detoured from many, to one. He went from winning multitudes, to winning one man, the Etheopian eunuch; from a great revival to a singular witnessing experience. This story shows the Lord's estimation of the value of one soul.
• Enoch and Elijah were detoured into heaven (Genesis 5:24, II Kings 2:11).

Is today the day we will experience the same?

There was a farmer who had three sons: Jim, John, and Sam. No one in the family ever attended church or had time for God. The pastor and the others in the church tried for years to interest the family in the things of God to no avail. Then one day Sam was bitten by a rattlesnake. The doctor was called and he did all he could to help Sam, but the outlook for Sam's recovery was very dim indeed. So the pastor was called and appraised of the situation. The pastor arrived, and began to pray as follows:

"O wise and righteous Father, we thank Thee that in Thine wisdom thou didst send this rattlesnake to bite Sam. He has never been inside the church and it is doubtful that he has, in all this time, ever prayed or even acknowledged Thine existence. Now we trust that this experience will be a valuable lesson to him and will lead to his genuine repentance.

"And now, O Father, wilt thou send another rattlesnake to bite Jim, and another to bite John, and another really big one to bite the old man. For years we have done everything we know to get them to turn to Thee, but all in vain. It seems, therefore, that what all our combined efforts could not do, this rattlesnake has done. We thus conclude that the only thing that will do this family any real good is rattlesnakes; so, Lord, send us bigger and better rattlesnakes. Amen."

How much more wonderful the work of redemption is, in comparison with creation. It is more marvelous that God was made man than that He created the angels; that He wailed in a stable than that He reigns in the heavens. The creation of the world was a work of power, but the redemption of the world was a work of mercy.

In the mid 1800s, Charles Berry, was a pastor in England. In his diary, he tells the story of how he became a Christian, after he was already a pastor.  He said that at that time he preached a "very thin gospel" - really no gospel at all. He viewed Jesus as merely a good teacher - not the divine redeemer.  But late one night during his first pastorate, he was sitting in his cozy study, and there came a knock. He opened the door and found a young girl with a shawl over her head and clogs on her feet. 

"Are you a minister?" she asked. When he said, "Yes", she went on breathlessly. "You must come with me quickly. I want you to get my mother in." 

Thinking the mother was a drunk who needed to get out of the cold, Berry said, "You must go and get a policeman." 

"No," said the girl, "My mother is dying, and you must come and get her into heaven." So, Berry got dressed and followed her for a mile and a half through a maze of unlit streets. He went into an old apartment and knelt at the woman's side. He began telling her how good and kind Jesus was and how He'd come to show us how to live. 

Then the desperate woman cut him off. "Mister," she cried, "that's no use for the likes of me. I'm a sinner. I've lived my life. Can't you tell me of someone who can have mercy upon me and save my poor soul?" 

Then he wrote, "I stood there in the presence of a dying woman, and I realized I had nothing to tell her. In the midst of sin and death, I had no message. In order to bring something to that dying woman, I leaped back to my mother's knee, to my simple cradle faith, and I told her the story of the Cross and of a Christ who is able to save to the uttermost." The tears began to run down the woman's cheeks. "Now you're getting it," she said. "Now you're helping me." 

Berry concluded the account by writing, "I got her in, and praise to God, I got in myself." Are you in? Can you help someone else get in?

John Newton, who wrote the hymn Amazing Grace back in 1779 certainly identified with the younger son, the son who wasted his inheritance. As a young man he left home and went to sea and there lived wildly and free. Like many people who abandon God, he was highly critical of the Christian faith, and spent much time tearing down the faith of the people he met as he went from place to place. It was only in later years that he realized that he had wasted his young life, and indeed not only wasted it - but in all that time he had been offensive to God and to all God-fearing people. And like the young prodigal, he repented and sought, in humility and submissiveness, to serve God for the rest of his days.

His resulting experience of God's forgiveness, of God's grace, is not only described well in the emotion packed words of the song he wrote, it is also to be found in his epitaph, an epitaph he himself wrote shortly before his death in 1807. He describes himself and his experience of God this way: "John Newton, clerk, once an infidel and libertine, was by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith he had long labored to destroy."

The very concept of God having pleasure--the mighty Maker of the Universe being pleased, like a child, at things that take place on Earth--staggers the imagination. Most amazing of all is the revelation that it pleased Him to put His own Son through a terrible, bruising death, as the tremendous Messianic prophecy of our text reveals. Nevertheless, this was the only possible way whereby "the pleasure of the LORD" could be accomplished in the redeemed lives of lost men and women, whom He had created for eternal fellowship with the Triune god. "For the LORD taketh pleasure in His people. (Psalm 149:4).

Five times we read in the New Testament that God the Father spoke from heaven assuring us that He was "well pleased" with His "beloved Son" (Matthew 3:17, 17:5: Mark l:ll; Luke 3:22; II Peter l:17). Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him. Had it not been so, none of us could ever have been saved, but the Lord Jesus Himself has confirmed to His own "little flock" that "it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom" (Luke 12:32).

Thus, not only have we been created "for Thy pleasure" (Revelation 4:11), but also we have been predestinated "unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will" (Ephesians l:5). This is far beyond our comprehension, so we merely rest in the great truth that "it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of His good pleasure" (Philippians 2:13). We know that "the LORD taketh pleasure in them that fear Him, in those that hope in His mercy" (Psalm 147:11).

Two passages by C. S. Lewis illustrate the author’s esxperience with God’s grace:

You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady, unrelented approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In the Trinity Term of 1929, I gave in and admitted that God was God and knelt and prayed: perhaps that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England. I did not then see what is now the most shining and obvious thing, the Divine humility which will accept a convert on even such terms. The prodigal son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape? The words “compelle intrare,” compel them to come in, have been so abused by wicked men that we shudder at them; but, properly understood, they plumb the depth of the Divine mercy. The hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and His compulsion is our liberation. [C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (San Diego: Harcourt Brace, 1956), p. 228; Magdalen is one of the colleges of Cambridge University.]

I never had the experience of looking for God. It was the other way round: He was the hunter (or so it seemed to me) and I was the deer. He stalked me like a redskin, took unerring aim, and fired. And I am very thankful that this is how the first (conscious) meeting occurred. It forearms one against subsequent fears that the whole thing was only wish fulfillment. Something one didn’t wish for can hardly be that. [C. S. Lewis, Christian Reflections (San Diego: Harcourt Brace, 1956), p. 169.]

King James V of Scotland would on occasion lay aside the royal robe of king and put on the simple robe of a peasant. In such a disguise, he was able to move freely about the land, making friends with ordinary folk, entering into their difficulties, appreciating their handicaps, sympathizing with them in their sorrow. And when as king he sat again upon the throne, he was better able to rule over them with fatherly compassion and mercy. God shares in human experience and thereby is better able to accept man.

1 Kings 10:5 - "the food of his table, the seating of his officials, and the attendance of his servants, their clothing, his cupbearers, and his burnt offerings which he offered at the house of the Lord, there was no more spirit in her."

Nehemiah 1:11 - "... Now I was cupbearer to the king."

This is an officer of considerable responsibility, who attended Eastern monarchs. This office is of very great antiquity, being mentioned in connection with the Egyptians, the Persians, and the Jewish rulers.

The primary duty of the cupbearer was to taste the foods and wines that were to be served to the king as a pledge that they were not poisoned. So, obviously, if you are going to put your life into a man’s hands in such a way, it is necessary that you have absolute trust in him. So we find that the cupbearer was considered to be a man of total loyalty.

It is only one short step further, then, to seeing that this is also a man who would be held in the highest esteem, and would therefore have great influence on the king. We find that this was true in the case of Nehemiah, who was cupbearer to Artaxerxes. It is even possible that it may have been cupbearers who were the messengers of Assyria called Rab-shakeh who stood before Hezekiah to challenge Israel. There are reliefs from Assyrian palaces which show the cupbearer in a position of importance in relation to the king.

Of course, today we don’t have any professions that fit in exactly with this concept. It really isn’t necessary for most of us to check our food and drink before we dare eat, but, in the essentials, we can say that the present day butler, especially one who has been with his employer for a long time, stands in relationship to the cupbearer. He is rather a buffer between his employer and the world, which tries to intrude in all sort of unpleasant ways.

The Apostle Peter, writing shortly before he was martyred, during a time when

• Nero's persecution of the church was growing in severity
• false teaching was tearing at the heart of the church
• believers were beginning to doubt that Jesus was returning
• the question of the day was, "How can we continue to trust God?"

During this period of doubt and uncertainty, the Apostle Peter writes in 2 Peter, "Don't let this one fact escape your notice, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day. The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness but God is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance."

Harriet Tubman was a brave woman who escaped slavery during the Civil War. Despite a huge reward for her capture, she returned to the slave-holding states over nineteen times to lead hundreds of African-Americans out of slavery's clutches into territory where they could live with liberty. Harriet Tubman was a Christian and she became a great warrior in the battle to dismantle the cruel institution of slavery. When asked about the source of her fearless strength, she would always say: "It wasn't me, it was the Lord. I always told him, 'I trust you. I don't know where to go or what to do, but I expect you to lead me.' And he always did." Harriet Tubman, the Black Moses, was never captured, and there are countless stories like these, and new stories are being told daily. They are the stories of Christian people who learn to lead because they keep rediscovering what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

The first scripture selection relates the healing of a man "who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech." Although nothing is mentioned regarding the faith of the man who was healed, faith was yet an active ingredient in the healing as exhibited by those who resolutely brought the man to Jesus. In verse 34, the phrase "looking up to heaven," underscores the intimate relationship with God that Jesus brought to that moment. Similarly, I have read that when Francis of Assisi preached, he never looked at his hearers, but instead fixed his eyes upon the sky as if expecting Christ to appear before he had completed the next sentence. Jesus, "looking up to heaven," apparently sought to acknowledge and intensify the power of God in his life for this moment of healing.

In our second passage, faith again is important to the healing, but this time it is the faith of the person to be healed, Bartimaeus. By faith, Bartimaeus cried out to Jesus even after being rebuked by those around him: "but he cried out all the more, Son of David, have mercy on me" (v. 48). Although blind, he threw off his cloak and ran to where Jesus was standing. Jesus said, "What do you want me to do for you?" and by faith Bartimaeus replied, "Master, let me receive my sight" (v. 51). Jesus’ reply underscores the point; "Go your way; your FAITH has made you well" (v. 52).

A congregation I once served included a young man who had been deaf from birth. He was a big, robust, handsome fellow whose sweet spirit enabled him to smile easily. During worship, he stood for the hymns and responsive readings, and participated as best he could in the entire service. During the sermon, his eyes were steadily fixed upon my lips, and in those few times when he was unable to lip-read what I was saying, he would turn to the young lady beside him and "sign" for clarification. I remember the day that he and the young lady came to my study to make plans for their wedding. She asked such questions as necessary and signed to him at intervals. As I spoke, she continued to interpret, even though he seemed already to understand. During the wedding ceremony, they held written copies of the vows and signed their pledges to each other. Before I left that congregation to acccept another appointment, the young man underwent an operation which enabled him to hear his first sounds. That was the first step. By God’s grace, one day, perhaps even now, he will be able to listen to all those things which you and I have grown accustomed to. Although different than the deaf man who was brought to Jesus, it will be a genuine miracle of healing, and it will have been done for one who has cried out from the silence in faith.

We are far removed in time and space from ancient Jericho where our Scriptures relate two of our Lord’s healings. However, as a society and as individuals, we yet stand in need of the healing touch.

Charles H. Scott’s familiar hymn says it well; "Open my eyes that I may see, glimpses of truth Thou hast for me ... Open my ears that I may hear voices of truth Thou sendest clear." And then the all-important third verse concludes, "Open my mouth and let me bear gladly the warm truth everywhere."

There is a story about a man who had a huge boulder in his front yard. He grew weary of this big, unattractive stone in the center of his lawn, so he decided to take advantage of it and turn it into an object of art. He went to work on it with hammer and chisel, and chipped away at the huge boulder until it became a beautiful stone elephant. When he finished, it was gorgeous, breath-taking.

A neighbor asked, "How did you ever carve such a marvelous likeness of an elephant?"

The man answered, "I just chipped away everything that didn't look like an elephant!"

If you have anything in your life right now that doesn't look like love, then, with the help of God, chip it away! If you have anything in your life that doesn't look like compassion or mercy or empathy, then, with the help of God, chip it away! If you have hatred or prejudice or vengeance or envy in your heart, for God's sake, and the for the other person's sake, and for your sake, get rid of it! Let God chip everything out of your life that doesn't look like tenderheartedness.

As some of you know, Fiorello LaGuardia was mayor of New York during the Depression, and he was quite a character. He would ride the city fire trucks, take entire orphanages to baseball games and whenever the city newspapers went on strike, he would get on the radio and read the Sunday "funnies" to the children.

At any rate, one bitter cold winter's night in 1935, Mayor LaGuardia turned up in a night court that served the poorest ward in the city, dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. After he heard a few cases, a tattered old woman was brought before him, accused of stealing a loaf of bread.

She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick and her grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, insisted on pressing charges. "My store is in a very bad neighborhood, your honor," he said. "She's got to be punished in order to teach other people a lesson."

The mayor sighed. He turned to the old woman and said, "I've got to punish you," he said. "The law makes no exception - ten dollars or ten days in jail."

But even as he spoke, LaGuardia was reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "Here is the woman's fine," he said, "and furthermore, I'm going to fine everyone in this court room fifty cents for living in a city where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Baliff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."

The following day, the New York Times reported that $47.50 was turned over to the bewildered old woman. It was given by the red-faced store owner, some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations and city policemen on duty that night in the chambers - and they all gave their mayor a standing ovation as they handed over their money.

That's how it will be with God's world. Just when it seems that all hope is lost, and goodness and mercy shall never win, the Great Judge will come to set things right, deciding for the hungry and the meek of the earth. Yes, there is also an Advent promise for the nations of the world in perplexity and distress: "Look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

Duke University psychiatrist Redford B. Williams has written a book called The Trusting Heart (New York: Random House). What he has discovered is that Type A behavior will not kill you. Grueling schedules, workaholism, stress, hurriedness - all these "Type A" personality syndromes are not predictive of early death. What is? Hostility, cynicism, aggression, and orneriness - these are the killers. People who cannot trust, people who can only control, are in more than spiritual jeopardy. Their health is on the line as well. 

The crowd that tried to quiet the boisterous blind man was evidently embarrassed by Bartimaeus' loud, direct method of expressing his needs and petitioning his desires. There were established channels by which to petition the Lord for healing or forgiveness - why didn't Bartimaeus submit to them? The crowd, like so many of us, preferred to put its trust in the Process instead of in the Spirit. But Jesus did not say to Nicodemus, "You must be born of the Process." In fact it is only when we free ourselves from the deep ruts that "following the process" has carved into our lives that we become able to trust in and follow the wings of the Spirit, wherever it may lead.

Michael A. Guido of Metter, Georgia, columnist of several newspapers writes:

"An artist in Mexico lost his right hand while working on a statue. But he did not give up his work. He learned to carve with his left hand. His beautifully finished masterpiece was called 'In Spite Of.'

"A sound body, a brilliant mind, a cultural background, a huge amount of money, a wonderful education none of these guarantee success. Booker T. Washington was born in slavery. Thomas Edison was deaf. Abraham Lincoln was born of illiterate parents. Lord Byron had a club foot. Robert Louis Stevenson had tuberculosis. Alexander Pope was a hunchback. Admiral Nelson had only one eye. Julius Caesar was an epileptic. But these men made history in spite of their handicaps. And there was Louis Pasteur, so near-sighted that he had a difficult time finding his way in his laboratory without glasses. There was Helen Keller, who could not hear or see, but who graduated with honors from a famous college.

"Got a handicap? Call on the Lord. No problem is too big for Him, or too small. He will make everything 'work together for good' if you trust Him."

Surely, Guido understands the nature of the human spirit to overcome all obstacles, and that by the power of God!

Shortly after the turn of the century, Japan invaded, conquered, and occupied Korea. Of all of their oppressors, Japan was the most ruthless. They overwhelmed the Koreans with a brutality that would sicken the strongest of stomachs. Their crimes against women and children were inhuman. Many Koreans live today with the physical and emotional scars from the Japanese occupation.

One group singled out for concentrated oppression was the Christians. When the Japanese army overpowered Korea one of the first things they did was board up the evangelical churches and eject most foreign missionaries. It has always fascinated me how people fail to learn from history. Conquering nations have consistently felt that shutting up churches would shut down Christianity. It didn't work in Rome when the church was established, and it hasn't worked since. Yet somehow the Japanese thought they would have a different success record.

The conquerors started by refusing to allow churches to meet and jailing many of the key Christian spokesmen. The oppression intensified as the Japanese military increased its profile in the South Pacific. The "Land of the Rising Sum" spread its influence through a reign of savage brutality. Anguish filled the hearts of the oppressed and kindled hatred deep in their souls.

One pastor persistently entreated his local Japanese police chief for permission to meet for services. His nagging was finally accommodated, and the police chief offered to unlock his church ... for one meeting. It didn't take long for word to travel. Committed Christians starving for an opportunity for unhindered worship quickly made their plans. Long before dawn on that promised Sunday, Korean families throughout a wide area made their way to the church. They passed the staring eyes of their Japanese captors, but nothing was going to steal their joy. As they closed the doors behind them they shut out the cares of oppression and shut in a burning spirit anxious to glorify their Lord.

The Korean church has always had a reputation as a singing church. Their voices of praise could not be concealed inside the little wooden frame sanctuary. Song after song rang through the open windows into the bright Sunday morning. For a handful of peasants listening nearby, the last two songs this congregation sang seemed suspended in time. It was during a stanza of "Nearer My God to Thee" that the Japanese police chief waiting outside gave the orders. The people toward the back of the church could hear them when they barricaded the doors, but no one realized that they had doused the church with kerosene until they smelled the smoke. The dried wooden skin of the small church quickly ignited. Fumes filled the structure as tongues of flame began to lick the baseboard on the interior walls. There was an immediate rush for the windows. But momentary hope recoiled in horror as the men climbing out the windows came crashing back in their bodies ripped by a hail of bullets.

The good pastor knew it was the end. With a calm that comes from confidence, he led his congregation in a hymn whose words served as a fitting farewell to earth and a loving salutation to heaven. The first few words were all the prompting the terrified worshipers needed. With smoke burning their eyes, they instantly joined as one to sing their hope and leave their legacy. Their song became a serenade to the horrified and helpless witnesses outside. Their words also tugged at the hearts of the cruel men who oversaw this flaming execution of the innocent.

Alas! and did my Savior bleed?
and did my Sovereign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
for such a worm as I?
Just before the roof collapsed they sang the last verse,
their words an eternal testimony to their faith.
But drops of grief can ne'er repay
the debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give myself away
'Tis all that I can do!
At the cross, at the cross
Where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day.

The strains of music and wails of children were lost in a roar of flames. The elements that once formed bone and flesh mixed with the smoke and dissipated into the air. The bodies that once housed life fused with the charred rubble of a building that once housed a church. But the souls who left singing finished their chorus in the throne room of God. Clearing the incinerated remains was the easy part. Erasing the hate would take decades. For some of the relatives of the victims, this carnage was too much. Evil had stooped to a new low, and there seemed to be no way to curb their bitter loathing of the Japanese.

In the decades that followed, that bitterness was passed on to a new generation. The Japanese, although conquered, remained a hated enemy. The monument the Koreans built at the location of the fire not only memorialized the people who died, but stood as a mute reminder of their pain.

Inner rest? How could rest coexist with a bitterness deep as marrow in the bones? Suffering, of course, is a part of life. People hurt people. Almost all of us have experienced it at some time. Maybe you felt it when you came home to find that your spouse had abandoned you, or when your integrity was destroyed by a series of well-timed lies, or when your company was bled dry by a partner. It kills you inside. Bitterness clamps down on your soul like iron shackles.

The Korean people who found it too hard to forgive could not enjoy the "peace that passes all understanding." Hatred choked their joy.

It wasn't until 1972 that any hope came. A group of Japanese pastors traveling through Korea came upon the memorial. When they read the details of the tragedy and the names of the spiritual brothers and sisters who had perished, they were overcome with shame. Their country had sinned, and even though none of them were personally involved (some were not even born at the time of the tragedy), they still felt a national guilt that could not be excused. They returned to Japan committed to right a wrong. There was an immediate outpouring of love from their fellow believers. They raised ten million yen ($25,000). The money was transferred through proper channels and a beautiful white church building was erected on the sight of the tragedy. When the dedication service for the new building was held, a delegation from Japan joined the relatives and special guests.

Although their generosity was acknowledged and their attempts at making peace appreciated, the memories were still there. Hatred preserves pain. It keeps the wounds open and the hurts fresh. The Koreans' bitterness had festered for decades. Christian brothers or not, these Japanese were descendants of a ruthless enemy. The speeches were made, the details of the tragedy recalled, and the names of the dead honored. It was time to bring the service to a close. Someone in charge of the agenda thought it would be appropriate to conclude with the same two songs that were sung the day the church was burned.  The song leader began the words to "Nearer My God to Thee."

But something remarkable happened as the voices mingled on the familiar melody. As the memories of the past mixed with the truth of the song, resistance started to melt. The inspiration that gave hope to a doomed collection of churchgoers in a past generation gave hope once more. The song leader closed the service with the hymn "At the Cross." The normally stoic Japanese could not contain themselves. The tears that began to fill their eyes during the song suddenly gushed from deep inside. They turned to their Korean spiritual relatives and begged them to forgive. The guarded, calloused hearts of the Koreans were not quick to surrender. But the love of the Japanese believers not intimidated by decades of hatred tore at the Koreans' emotions.

At the cross, at the cross
Where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away ...

One Korean turned toward a Japanese brother. Then another. And then the floodgates holding back a wave of emotion let go. The Koreans met their new Japanese friends in the middle. They clung to each other and wept. Japanese tears of repentance and Korean tears of forgiveness intermingled to bathe the site of an old nightmare. Heaven had sent the gift of reconciliation to a little white church in Korea.

Isaiah, the poet-prophet paints a vivid picture of a depraved society that has turned away from God, a whole community that is contaminated by sin and injustice. There is nothing in the words of the prophets that would not apply to our times and our society also. And it brings chills down the spine. Listen to the words:

"We wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom. We grope like the blind along a wall, groping like those who have no eyes; we stumble at noon as in the twilight, among the vigorous as though we are dead."

Unlike the spiritually blind society described by Isaiah, this one physically blind man named Bartimaeus reacts as though he has been waiting for the coming Jesus. He can't run because he cannot see. He cannot even walk, because the crowd is so thick; he might get trampled over.

But he knows it is now or never. From where he is sitting he raises his strong voice and shouts words that can get him in trouble. But he doesn't care. Listen to the words: "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me." He knows the name of the Nazarene, because his fame has reached in all towns and villages. But when he says, "Son of David," that immediately puts Jesus in the royal succession and identifies him as the Messiah. Now, the acceptance of that title on the part of Jesus is what the enemies of Jesus were waiting for in order to arrest him. To claim the title Son of David would be to lay claim to royal kinship and to the role of the awaited Messiah.

Faith is the rare courage to act on that which you cannot yet prove to be true.
Faith is leaving a fresh grave with enough hope to carry on.
Faith is writing a song of thanksgiving when the rent is due.
Faith is accepting forgiveness when it seems nothing more than a distant dream.
Faith is proclaiming peace while you still feel the turmoil inside.
Faith is letting your hair down enough to receive the mercy of God.

A young soldier was utterly humiliated by his senior officer. The officer had gone beyond the bounds of acceptable behavior in disciplining the young soldier and knew it, so he said nothing as the younger man said through clenched teeth, "I'll make you regret this if it is the last thing I ever do." A few days later their company was under heavy fire and the officer was wounded and cut off from his troops. Through the haze of the battlefield he saw a figure coming to his rescue. It was the young soldier. At the risk of his own life, the young soldier dragged the officer to safety. The officer said, apologetically, "Son, I owe you my life." The young man laughed and said, "I told you that I would make you regret humiliating me if it was the last thing I ever did."

That is God's kind of revenge. "Behold the Lamb that takes away the sins of the world..." Something happened on Calvary that bridged the gap between a holy God and unholy humanity. We see Christ in his majesty but also in his mercy.

In the original Aramaic which Jesus spoke, the word "merciful" means literally "to get under someone's skin." It means to wear his skin, as it were; to see life from his perspective, to stand in his shoes. It means more than sympathy; it means active empathy or merciful understanding.

Let me illustrate. A prominent minister was holding a weekend seminar at Lake Junaluska, North Carolina, several years ago. He kept noticing a man in the front row nodding sleepily. This aggravated the speaker. Preachers don't like for folks to go to sleep on them. We don't have that problem here since we armed the ushers with those 36-foot extendable fishing rods so they can tap any nodding worshipper on the head.

The speaker at Junaluska though to himself: Wonder why the man didn't stay home if he couldn't stay awake? During the lunch break, a woman approached the speaker and said, "Sir, let me apologize for my husband's drowsiness. He is undergoing chemotherapy. The doctors have given him a medication to control the side-effects, but it makes him very sleepy. I tried to persuade him to stay home today, but he said, "I must go as long as I'm able. I never know when I will no longer be able to gather with God's people."

Suddenly that speaker's attitude toward the drowsy man was transformed. Why? The wife had enabled him to get under the skin of her husband and really understand him. That is the quality of mercy.

We do ourselves no favors in justifying our deeds or glossing over our sins. Max Lucado tells how, when his daughter Andrea was five or six, she got a splinter in her finger. He took her to the restroom and set out some tweezers, ointment, and a Band-Aid.

She didn’t like what she saw. “I just want the Band-Aid, Daddy.”

In the year 1873, Horatio Spafford, a Christian lawyer from Chicago, placed his wife and four children on the luxury liner Ville de Havre sailing from New York to France. Spafford expected to join them in about three or four weeks after finishing up some business, but with the exception of his wife he never saw them again. The trip started out beautifully. But on the evening of November 21, 1873, as the Ville de Havre proceeded peacefully across the Atlantic, the ship was suddenly struck by another vessel, the Lochearn, and sank a mere thirty minutes later, with the loss of nearly all on board.

On being told that the ship was sinking Mrs. Spafford knelt with her children and prayed that they might be saved or be made willing to die, if such was God's will. A few minutes later, in the confusion, three of the children were swept away by the waves while she stood clutching the youngest. Suddenly the youngest child was swept from her arms. Mrs. Spafford became unconscious and awoke later to find that she had been rescued by sailors from the Lochearn. But the four children were gone.

Back in the United States, Horatio Spafford was waiting for news of his family, and at last, ten days later (after the rescue ship had reached Cardiff), it came. "Saved alone" was his wife's message. That night Spafford walked the floor of his rooms in anguish, as anyone would have done. But this was not all. For as he shared his loss with His Lord, a loss which could not be reversed in this life, he found, as many have, that peace which indeed passes all understanding. Toward morning he told a friend named Major Whittle, "I am glad to be able to trust my Lord when it costs me something." Then, sometime later, as he reflected on the disaster at sea, he wrote this hymn:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea-billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin-Oh, the bliss of this glorious thought,
My sin-not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,
"Even so"—it is well with my soul.

The noted author, John Killinger, tells a powerful story about a man who is all-alone in a hotel room in Canada. The man is in a state of deep depression. He is so depressed that he can't even bring himself to go downstairs to the restaurant to eat.

He is a powerful man usually the chairman of a large shipping company but at this moment, he is absolutely overwhelmed by the pressures and demands of life… and he lies there on a lonely hotel bed far from home wallowing in self-pity.

All of his life, he has been fastidious, worrying about everything, anxious and fretful, always fussing and stewing over every detail. And now, at mid-life, his anxiety has gotten the best of him, even to the extent that it is difficult for him to sleep and to eat.

He worries and broods and agonizes about everything, his business, his investments, his decisions, his family, his health, even, his dogs. Then, on this day in this Canadian hotel, he craters. He hits bottom. Filled with anxiety, completely immobilized, paralyzed by his emotional despair, unable to leave his room, lying on his bed, he moans out loud: "Life isn't worth living this way, I wish I were dead!"

And then, he wonders, what God would think if he heard him talking this way. Speaking aloud again he says, "God, it's a joke, isn't it? Life is nothing but a joke." Suddenly, it occurs to the man that this is the first time he's talked to God since he was a little boy. He is silent for a moment and then he begins to pray. He describes it like this: "I just talked out loud about what a mess my life was in and how tired I was and how much I wanted things to be different in my life. And you know what happened next? A voice!! I heard a voice say, ‘It doesn't have to be that way!' That's all."

He went home and talked to his wife about what happened. He talked to his brother who is a minister and asked him: "Do you think it was God speaking to me?" The brother said: "Of course, because that is the message of God to you and everyone of us. That's the message of the Bible. That's why Jesus Christ came into the world to save us, to deliver us, to free us, to change us and to show us that ‘It doesn't have to be that way.' A few days later, the man called his brother and said, "You were right. It has really happened. I've done it. I've had a rebirth. I'm a new man. Christ has turned it around for me."

Well, the man is still prone to anxiety. He still has to work hard. But, now he has a source of strength. During the week, he often leaves his work-desk and goes to the church near his office. He sits there and prays. He says: "It clears my head. It reminds me of who I am and whose I am. Each time as I sit there in the Sanctuary, I think back to that day in that hotel room in Canada and how depressed and lonely and lost I felt and I hear that voice saying: It doesn't have to be that way.'"

That is precisely what this story is all about. Christ walks into the tormented life of the Gerasene demoniac, this madman, whose life is coming apart at the seams and He turns it around for him. He gives him a new beginning, a new start, a new birth. At the beginning of the narrative, it sounds like a horror-story. This wild-eyed, adrenalin-filled, madman comes running and shrieking out of the tomb. He is so unbalanced! He is convinced that he is being held captive by a whole legion of demons, who are pulling and jerking him in every direction

This is an eerie, grim, suspenseful, frightening situation. Jesus and His disciples have just come through a storm on the Sea of Galilee. It is nighttime and having survived that frightening storm they are thrilled to now set foot on solid ground. But, as they get out of the boat, they encounter a different kind of storm… yet another scary experience. They hear strange sounds coming from the tombs… shrieks, growls, screams, moans, the rattling of chains. Then, suddenly, a horrifying sight. A madman with tattered clothes, bruised, dirty, bloody and battered with pieces of chains dangling from his arms and ankles, comes running and screaming directly toward them!

Now, let me ask you something: "What would you have done in that situation?" This was a perilous place, a bloodcurdling moment… a powerful, dangerous, berserk man, charging them. I think I would have run for my life... or jumped back in the boat.

But not Jesus! Jesus stood His ground and faced the madman. Undaunted, unafraid... Jesus stood there and dealt with this wild man. Jesus healed him. He brought peace to his troubled soul. He changed him. He cleansed him. He turned his life around… and you know (don't you?) that He can do that for you.

Now, let me underscore this and spell it out a bit more by lifting three ideas out of this great story...

1. You Don't Have to Be at War with Yourself.
2. You Don't Have to Be at War with Other People.
3. You Don't Have to Be at War with God.

Four men were chained to trees in the black woods. They were hungry, heartsick, discouraged prisoners.

Then came a traveler. He knew the way to free them. He knew the combination to the locks, which held the chains, and could set the prisoners free.

He set the first man free, and then he went to the second man and freed him. In turn he cared for the third man, but failed to be able to loose the fourth.

The fourth was left in chains with the combination to his lock in doubt.

Many rejoiced at the heroic rescue, but the hero remained unsatisfied that the fourth continued a prisoner.

Why were these men prisoners? Who had chained them? What had brought rescue?

The first man's chains were terror of God, and he sought to deny any religion or any relationship to God. The sins of fear and doubt kept him chained in the forest of hate and ignorance.

The second man's chains were made of race prejudice, and he thought himself superior to those of another color. He was imprisioned in the forest of hate and ignorance.

The third man was chained with a self-righteous attitude, thinking he could do no wrong and needed no mercy to be given to others. He was lost through loneliness and chained in the. forest of hate and ignorance.

The rescuer used God's Word to set the prisoners free. (John 3:16) "For God so loved the world ...--" (Acts 17:24-26) "God has made of one blood all nations of men ...--". (I Corinthians 8:8) "Meat does not commend us to God -- whether we eat it or eat it not."

The fourth kept his chains and home in darkness for he had no faith and would not believe his own brother.

Have you any chains? Are you in a forest?

In his book, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, Oliver Sacks tells the story of Jimmie, a former sailor, now a patient in a nursing home, whose severe neurological disorder had left him with a profound and permanent amnesia. He simply had no memory of anything from 1945 on. Having no ability to retrieve the past and no ability to construct a meaningful present, Jimmie lacked the continuity that makes for a sense of the self. He was, wrote Sacks, a person who "wore a look of infinite sadness and resignation."

However, when Sacks asked the Sisters who ran the nursing home whether Jimmie had lost his soul, the Sisters were outraged by the question. "Watch Jimmie in chapel," they said, "and judge for yourself."

So Sacks did watch Jimmie in chapel, and there he observed an astounding transformation. He saw an intensity and steadiness in Jimmie that he had not observed before. As he received the sacrament, there was "perfect alignment of his spirit with the spirit of the Mass." There in worship, Jimmie was no longer at the mercy of a faulty and fallible memory. "He was wholly held, absorbed ...." He whose mind was broken was given in worship, "a continuity and unity so seamless it could not permit any break."

Jimmie in his own way is like all of us. In the final analysis, none of us is able to construct a self. We must all be given a story and a continuity not of our own making. Where we have no faithful memory, God remembers, and by the grace of God, the Spirit whispers the lyrics of the saving gospel in our ears.