This morning, very early, I listened again to Humble King, a song written by Brenton Brown. At the same time, I was thinking of how much we miss the mark when it comes to being like Jesus, the humble king. Geography doesn’t make one a saint or sinner. Sinner can be defined as one who misses the mark. So if missing the mark is sin, can we hit the target in the center of wherever we live?
A 13-year-old boy is suspected of armed robberies at a Dollar General in New Orleans yesterday. Who cares about this kid? Would we let him in our mega-church glass and steel structures? He may want more than the free cups of coffee we boast about in the lobbies. We are afraid he might steal from us. Rightly so, I guess.
Yesterday, I was quite proud of myself as I hung some Honduran photographs. They are the faces of poor, rugged old farmers. They are the faces of children living in shacks on mountainsides. I was proud of my photography, and and I think, quite proud that I was a friend to the poor.
Am I really a friend of the poor? Would I trade places with any of them, even for a day? or week? a year? Then it hits me. Jesus became man. The greatest story ever told, and many just think it’s a story, tells us that God became man. He came as a nobody. He was from the backwoods of Israel, a place that we might compare to rural Arkansas today. He was homeless during his 3 years of ministry. He didn’t even own a mule, as he borrowed one when he rode on his last trip to Jerusalem.
Would I leave the right hand of God, seated in heaven, part of the Creation of Everything, to walk everywhere and talk and touch ordinary, even sick people everyday. Would I actually behave like the Humble King?
I leave you with pictures of my friends from Honduras who are grateful for our little offerings. They are big to them, but I think, most of our offerings are very little compared to what we keep for ourselves. Let me be like the Humble King, who embraced the ones in need and washed the feet of the weary.