How good a friend am I of Jesus? I wonder.
If I see him on the street today, would I go up to him, thump him on the back like I do with my good friends and say, “Hi Jeez! Coming home for a cuppa?”
Or would I fall down on my knees and say, like Thomas, “My Lord and my God!”
Or would it be: “Jesus, it’s good that you’re here. You see, I have this house I have set my heart on. Can you be a friend and help... And this daughter of mine who cannot find a husband at age 30 ... And can you do something about that terrible migraine that the doctors can’t seem to fix...”
Or would I quickly cross the street, lest he see me and question me about that shady deal I entered into and that ugly spat I had with my neighbour or the unfair wage I am paying my maid ...
Or would I come face to face with him and just remain tongue-tied, not knowing how to address the one I know as my Savior?
What would I do, I wonder.
What kind of friend am I, if friend I am at all? And then I wonder even more. What kind of friends were the apostles to Jesus. What image does the gospel give me of their ‘friendship’? Do I see Peter going up to him, thumping him on the back and saying, “Hey Jesus. Want to come fishing with me?” Or would Jesus himself say with a thump and a chuckle, “Hey Simon Pete! Come let’s take that stroll upon the water again.”
But no. Jesus is shown as benevolence in action; a man of compassion for all, a master, a guru, a rebel, a reformer, a miracle worker; divinity clothed in flesh. But not a friend as we see it. Jesus is no buddy. Except in Matthew 11:19. “The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they say,’Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” Or again “And it came about that he was reclining at the table in his house and many tax-gatherers and sinners were dining with Jesus and his disciples...” Or perhaps, when we see him in the house of Lazarus and of Martha and Mary, we see Jesus with friends. Our saviour and Lord was keeping bad company, wasn’t He? Friend of sinners on the one hand and Lord and Master to his disciples on the other?
And in all this, was He telling me something about His friendships and mine?
Look at me. I have a lot of friends. I thump a lot of backs. Of those in my own social circle. Of those with whom I am comfortable. Of those I know will be of use to me tomorrow. Of those who admire me and sing my praises. And I have on a few heaven-sent occasions thumped the backs of those who were in need of my help; of those who had nobody to turn to; of those who had nothing to offer but affection. Was it then that I got the feeling? That it was His back I was thumping. And did I hear at those moments His whisper “Inasmuch as you thumped the backs of the least of my brethren...’’ or something to that effect.
But then, I have also felt His hand on my back. Not in any hail-fellow-well-met thump of jollity. But in grim seriousness, with the firmness of reprimand; a hard push against the direction I was taking; a slap of chastisement, painful and seemingly merciless. And I may have said, “Why, my friend, why?” Until I felt his hand again, gentle and healing. When I had sinned. When was confused. When I was shattered. When I was sick. When I was grieving.
And then I remember John 15, where he proclaims his friendship and his love. “Greater love has no man than this: to lay down his life for his friends.” He said it. He did it.
What a friend!
Published in The Agnel Ashram Magazine
If I see him on the street today, would I go up to him, thump him on the back like I do with my good friends and say, “Hi Jeez! Coming home for a cuppa?”
Or would I fall down on my knees and say, like Thomas, “My Lord and my God!”
Or would it be: “Jesus, it’s good that you’re here. You see, I have this house I have set my heart on. Can you be a friend and help... And this daughter of mine who cannot find a husband at age 30 ... And can you do something about that terrible migraine that the doctors can’t seem to fix...”
Or would I quickly cross the street, lest he see me and question me about that shady deal I entered into and that ugly spat I had with my neighbour or the unfair wage I am paying my maid ...
Or would I come face to face with him and just remain tongue-tied, not knowing how to address the one I know as my Savior?
What would I do, I wonder.
What kind of friend am I, if friend I am at all? And then I wonder even more. What kind of friends were the apostles to Jesus. What image does the gospel give me of their ‘friendship’? Do I see Peter going up to him, thumping him on the back and saying, “Hey Jesus. Want to come fishing with me?” Or would Jesus himself say with a thump and a chuckle, “Hey Simon Pete! Come let’s take that stroll upon the water again.”
But no. Jesus is shown as benevolence in action; a man of compassion for all, a master, a guru, a rebel, a reformer, a miracle worker; divinity clothed in flesh. But not a friend as we see it. Jesus is no buddy. Except in Matthew 11:19. “The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they say,’Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” Or again “And it came about that he was reclining at the table in his house and many tax-gatherers and sinners were dining with Jesus and his disciples...” Or perhaps, when we see him in the house of Lazarus and of Martha and Mary, we see Jesus with friends. Our saviour and Lord was keeping bad company, wasn’t He? Friend of sinners on the one hand and Lord and Master to his disciples on the other?
And in all this, was He telling me something about His friendships and mine?
Look at me. I have a lot of friends. I thump a lot of backs. Of those in my own social circle. Of those with whom I am comfortable. Of those I know will be of use to me tomorrow. Of those who admire me and sing my praises. And I have on a few heaven-sent occasions thumped the backs of those who were in need of my help; of those who had nobody to turn to; of those who had nothing to offer but affection. Was it then that I got the feeling? That it was His back I was thumping. And did I hear at those moments His whisper “Inasmuch as you thumped the backs of the least of my brethren...’’ or something to that effect.
But then, I have also felt His hand on my back. Not in any hail-fellow-well-met thump of jollity. But in grim seriousness, with the firmness of reprimand; a hard push against the direction I was taking; a slap of chastisement, painful and seemingly merciless. And I may have said, “Why, my friend, why?” Until I felt his hand again, gentle and healing. When I had sinned. When was confused. When I was shattered. When I was sick. When I was grieving.
And then I remember John 15, where he proclaims his friendship and his love. “Greater love has no man than this: to lay down his life for his friends.” He said it. He did it.
What a friend!
Published in The Agnel Ashram Magazine
No comments:
Post a Comment