students of jesus

At Students of Jesus Mondays are about meditation. We can set the course for our hearts all week long by choosing a theme to hold before God day by day. Mediation should be a normative part of Christian life, but many North American Christians are familiar only with study.

Richard Foster, a man who has given himself to training in spiritual formation,  says simply, “Christian meditation is the ability to hear God’s voice and obey his word.” Hearing his voice need not be the same thing as reading the Bible.

We give ourselves to definitions, memorization and organization, but our hearts remain unmoved. For example, when the Magi asked the religious experts of King Herod’s court, “where is the Messiah to be born?” the Scribes were capable of giving a correct answer, but not one of them was moved to go with the Magi and worship at the feet of the Child Christ. God save us from that kind of knowledge. The paths to mediation are many, but I’d like to suggest a few starting points for those who have never considered the difference between book-learning and meditation:

• Chew the cud: Don’t be in a hurry. When we ruminate on the scripture for a week, a month, or even a year we give the Holy Spirit opportunity to suggest what He meant when he inspired the text. I know of one married couple who read all the verses of Proverbs 3 every night for a year. Each night they talked about what the words could mean--that’s chewing the cud!
• Look for Jesus’ words in his actions. For example, if you are intrigued by Jesus’ mysterious statement, “Don’t cast your pearls before swine,” why not read all four gospels looking for evidence of how Jesus walked out that very statement? I guarantee--you’ll be surprised.
• Set aside the Bible, and listen. Of course the Bible is a good thing, but the Bible itself suggests other avenues to hear God’s voice: the operation of nature, the moon and the stars, lives of other believers, even our own hearts can convey the voice of God to us. The very fact that we have the Bible as a safety net should give us confidence to open our ears to other avenues of His expression.

Do you need somewhere to start? Try this on for a week:

Your word, O LORD, is eternal; 

       it stands firm in the heavens.

Your faithfulness continues through all generations; 


       you established the earth, and it endures.

Your laws endure to this day,

 
       for all things serve you.

If your law had not been my delight,

 
       I would have perished in my affliction.

I will never forget your precepts,

 
       for by them you have preserved my life.

 Save me, for I am yours;

 
       I have sought out your precepts.

 The wicked are waiting to destroy me,

 
       but I will ponder your statutes.

 To all perfection I see a limit;

 
       but your commands are boundless.

                         ~ Psalm 118: 89-96

When I was a young boy Josué De La Cruz saved my life. My third-floor apartment on the northwest side of Chicago was fully involved in flames. The Latino firefighter crawled up the steps beneath the smoke, through the fire, and carried me to safety. I wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for him.

He visited me in the hospital the next day. I thanked him for his courage and sacrifice. He told me he was happy to make a difference. We chatted for a while. His Spanish accent reminded me that he was from a completely different culture than mine. It was hard to understand him sometimes, but I was grateful. I fell asleep and he was gone.

My family found a new place to live but I included Josué in my prayers every night--for a couple of months at least. Eventually school took all my attention and life returned to normal. I was surprised five years later when Josué turned up at my college dorm one night. I was coming back to the dorm very late--trying not to attract the attention of the Resident Assistant.

“Man,” he said with that accent. “You know it’s really dangerous to drive home in your condition. You should be more careful.”

I was embarrassed. “Yeah, I guess so.” I shoved my hand forward to shake his. “Hey man, thanks for pulling me out of that fire back then.”

“No problem--that’s over. Listen, I brought you some money for textbooks. Take care for yourself.”

It was strange, him showing up that night. I really wasn’t thinking straight. When I woke up the next morning it was hard to tell where the night had ended and where my dreams began. But I did have $100 in the pocket of my jeans.

I was nearly thirty when he turned up again. I’d been married for seven years. My wife and I had one kid and another of the way. I had taken a job working for her father. It wasn’t the life I wanted but with another kid on the way paying the bills was a big deal. Still, the job sucked and I wasn’t happy.  I came home from work and there was Josué, the firefighter who had saved my life, sitting on my front step, petting the family dog.

“Dude, what are you doing here?”

“Amigo, it’s so good to see you again. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

That seemed really strange to hear. All I could manage was an awkward “Thanks.”

“You know,” he said, looking up  from the dog. “You ought to cut your wife a little slack. It isn’t easy raising one kid while she’s baking another.”

“Well my job ain’t so hot either. Did you want something?” I asked.

He ignored the question. “I could help you with that if you want.”

I laughed. “Thanks. I’m a little old for the Fire Academy, don’t you think?” I  stepped past him an went to the door. “Thanks for stopping by, though.” Later I found a gift card to Applebee’s right where he had been sitting. There was a post-it note where he had scribbled, Take your wife out to dinner tonight.

I don’t know: maybe Josué had moved into my neighborhood because he began to pop up at the most random times and places. It began to get a little creepy. One time he was in the booth behind me and my friend at the pancake house.

“Hey man,” he said with that accent. “Have you been putting on some weight?”

“Maybe. You still look pretty fit.” It was true, I had to admit it.

“I’m not trying to bust your hump,” he said. “I just want to see you stay healthy and live well.”

I didn’t feel scolded. Especially because he waited for my buddy to hit the restroom before he spoke to me. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll work on that.” When my friend and I left we found that Josué had already paid the tab. It went on like this for the next few years. Josué would turn up, offer his opinion on something or other, and always do something nice for me.

Then one afternoon he was outside my workplace. I had bolted from working for my father-in-law, but three jobs later I was going nowhere fast. Life sucked. My wife and kids were strangers to me, and I was thinking of getting in the car and just driving.

“My friend,” Josué said gently. “Don’t do this thing.”

I was startled. Did he know my thoughts? “What thing?”

“Times are tough,” he said. “I get it. Let me help you learn how to live.”

Finally I’d had enough of these strange appearances. “Listen, Josué. It’s been twenty years since you saved me from the fire. What gives you the right to show up and tell me what to do?”

“What good was saving your life if you don’t know how to live it?” he answered. “I went into your apartment that day to change your life, not just save it.”

“Really?” I demanded. “Well, I needed someone to save me--not someone to run my life. What gives you the right?”

“I am Josué De La Cruz.” He stood tall and his voice swelled with strength. And as he said the words he began to change: his face and clothes became white--dazzling beyond any brightness on Earth.

I shielded my eyes and heard thunder from the cloudless sky. In the thunder I thought I heard a voice. “This is my son. Listen to him!”

And then, in a moment the day returned, and the sunshine seemed less bright. Josué put his arm on my shoulder and said, “Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. That’s why I saved you that day.”

“Then he told her, "For such a reply, you may go; the demon has left your daughter.” She went home and found her child lying on the bed, and the demon gone." Mark 7:29-30

These are the final words from an encounter between Jesus and a pagan woman. Perhaps you know the story: Jesus leaves Israel and lays low in a foreign city. A Gentile woman seeks him out and cries for mercy on behalf of her demonized daughter. It looks as though she will be sent away empty, but after an infamous exchange with the Jewish Messiah, she returns home to find her daughter healed. Commentators have made much of the exchange: “healing is the children’s bread; humble yourself in prayer;” or even “don’t take offense when it seems God is against you.”

When I meditate on this story I am faced with a different question. Why did the woman leave? She was aggressive enough to find Jesus even when he wanted to keep his location a secret. She broke into his beach house and annoyed everyone in the room. She was a woman who will not be denied. From our perspective Jesus answered rudely yet she refused to be dismissed--until he says “you may go, the demon has left your daughter.”

We know the outcome: Jesus healed her daughter from where he sat. When Jesus uttered the words the room did not light up with the glory of God. There was no evidence of a miracle in the room. Other healing stories show people pleading that Jesus hurry to the bedside of those in need. Even his best friends Mary and Martha complained that if Jesus had only come sooner Lazarus would not have died. Yet this foreigner was content to walk away on the strength of his word.

Here’s my suggested meditation this week: would I have been satisfied with only his word? This woman knew when to pray, and she knew when to quit. When I put myself in the story I have to admit I may not have been so easily satisfied. Would I have insisted, “No! Please come now and lay your hands on my child”?

Let's consider these questions: When I pray, do I leave room for Jesus to speak to me? Will I trust him when he does? Am I satisfied with only his word?

How far apart are the natural and spiritual?  Robert Benton’s 1984 quiet masterpiece, Places in the Heart, explores the distance between the two.

Filmed on location in Waxahachie, Texas, this movie tells the compelling story of a Depression era family facing tragedy and poverty while maintaining their identity and dignity before God and man. Its characters are deeply flawed people thrown together by circumstances beyond their imagining. Somehow they must judge wisely between what matters and what seems to matter. This movie answers the question posed to Jesus by a lawyer: “Who is my neighbor?”

Places in the Heart is not an overtly Christian movie, and that’s a good thing. Some Evangelical ministries attempt to make “Christian movies with a message,” which is a really bad idea: when an art form elevates message above craft both the craft and message suffer. The characters in this movie quite naturally live their lives in a “Christian town.” If any Christian claims are made during the film, they are revealed in due course. Thus when the town’s mortgage banker is also a church deacon the movie naturally explores the relationship between the two identities residing in the same man. Eventually we discover the multiple identities of nearly every character in the movie.

Nominated for seven Academy Awards (Sally Field won for best actress and Benton for original screenplay), Places in the Heart presents a fine cast: Sally Field, Danny Glover, John Malkovich, and Ed Harris. Robert Benton’s direction is understated. He trusts the story without resorting to unnecessary drama. The pace is unhurried and the ending will cause you realize that the Kingdom of God breaks into our day and age more than we expect.

In my opinion any disciple who loves films ought to own this movie.