At first everything Jesus was saying sounded good to the folks from Nazareth, but wait just a minute! They haven’t seen or benefited from any of the signs and wonders they’ve heard Jesus had been performing elsewhere. None of their lame had been made to walk, none of their blind had been made to see, and none of their lepers had been cleansed. In other words, “What have you done for us lately, Jesus?”
Then Jesus reminds them about the Old Testament prophet Elijah who passed over Jewish widows in order to perform a miracle for a penniless Gentile. In other words, God’s promise wasn’t just for the Jews of Galilee, although they certainly needed it. Jesus was there to bring the healing and loving activity of God far outside the boundaries of the supposed “People of God.” God’s promise was, is, and always will be bigger and better and than what you might expect or even wish for – it’s a promise for all when you find yourself on the margins of humanity.
If God’s promise of recovery and good news wasn’t just for them, then that meant that something was required of them something big and uncomfortable, They didn’t get to just sit back and hear the impressive words Jesus spoke and be the lucky recipients of all kinds of cool miracles. They had to open their hearts, extend their hospitality, and spread their arms wide. They had to think differently, live differently, love differently.
And so Jesus’ hometown crowd got angry. Beyond angry – they were filled with rage at the idea that they might not be God’s intended “insiders.” And so they drove Jesus out of town and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. They were prepared to kill the messenger, and hoping also to kill the message -- or at least the piece of the message that said they weren’t its sole beneficiaries; the piece that required them to join in welcoming others into its fold.
It seems disturbingly familiar. To appreciate the message of God’s mercy but not so much the judgment part, to crave the forgiveness part, but not so much the requirement that you forgive others and yourself. Or to be comforted and overjoyed by God’s love for you, but not so much the insistence that you have to share that love with others that you don’t find so loveable.
You are living in the eternal now of God’s coming among you. He is so unlike your other experiences, He is in you. He only asks: Bring the hopes and fears of all your years and lay them in front of Jesus. You’ve forgotten all that God has done for you already when you find yourself asking: “What have you done for me lately, Jesus?”
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