We lived in separate small towns, brought together by our involvement in Presbyterian Youth. For several years we would meet at least 3-4 times a year at conferences in our area. He was handsome, quite intelligent, well-spoken, a “true Southern gentleman,” and all of those things that make for an “eligible bachelor,” or a fraternity brother at any one of the best houses. He was also a dedicated, practicing Christian and had long desired to become a minister.

When we left high school for college, he went to Davidson and our separation then and through my 3 years in the Army was inevitable. I next heard of him when I moved to Charlotte. He was an attorney and had practiced with another friend of mine for a short time. When their association ended, he went out on his own. For some reason, although we occasionally talked by phone, we never found the opportunity and need to visit, as we had so easily some years earlier. I was married then with a young daughter, and he was single. However, I thought often of Bob and wished we had been able to get together. I had a “million questions” but my main interest concerned his work, his decision not to pursue the ministry and why such a good friend of mine had discontinued their affiliation.

I later learned that Bob’s decision not to enter the ministry was probably not entirely his choice – it was made for him. The word I had was that it concerned his “sexual orientation,” which was also not his choice. I don’t know but suspect that also played a role in his practicing alone.

Pat and I later saw Bob at a “One Voice” concert, the excellent chorus of the LGBT community. We had 2 friends in the group. Bob and I had a very cordial but brief exchange. I felt no discomfort and wanted Pat and me to spend some time with him. I sensed, or thought I sensed, that he was a little uncomfortable, so I didn’t pursue it. He was with friends and knew nothing of the extent of my awareness or how I felt about his life style.

I still can’t imagine anyone better qualified for the ministry – anyone who would be more dedicated, who “loved his Lord” any more. Maybe the timing was wrong, now maybe his decision wouldn’t have been dictated by fate, or others. Fortunately, times have changed – at least somewhat.

Bob undoubtedly fund his own peace and his way of serving. He was well-known and highly regarded by the gay community, a real source of help and strength. He probably spent more time on pro bono work for his friends than on work that brought only fees. I still remember the heartfelt accolades from so many of his friends.

But there could have been – there should have been – so much more. Not just for Bob and his friends, but for our world.

Amen.

For a few years now I have gone to the church periodically in the winter months and slept there with the homeless. We place mattresses in the gym and cover them with sheets and blankets. They are fed well and have a quiet, protected night. Most fall asleep after a shower and their bellies are full of warm food. I am usually tired from the workday yet without fail feel surprisingly energized to attend to the various tasks at hand.
. One of those nights, as is often the case, there was a fellow that worked the system from the moment he “hit the door.”
“Can I get an extra t-shirt?”
“Is there any more chicken?” This would be his fourth piece.
He was constantly stuffing whatever he could into his pockets. The whole time he never stops this garbled but loud diatribe on everything under the sun; opinions, places he’d been, things he could do, fights he’d seen, the end of the world, etc. The other guys would just give him a tired look or roll their eyes.
I must say that, before the night was over, he was getting under my skin a little. I got a bit “toney” with him (I’ll call him Demetrius.) about tying up the phone and talking so loud while the other guys were watching a movie in the same room.
So I prayed before trying to get a little shut-eye. I asked God to show me what about the man was something about myself that I didn’t like. As quick as I asked, the answer came. I hate to say it but at times, I’ve been a afraid that I wasn’t going to get what I needed or that someone or some entity was going to take away what I had. Are we not all at least vaguely familiar with self-centered fear?
Periodically I find that I possibly talk a bit too much. I’m aware that it’s because I’m afraid to let folks get too close. It’s also about intimacy and a lot of other psychological “isms” we hear about these days. I couldn’t help but think that was exactly how the fellow at the church felt.
The next morning he was in true form. “You got any talcum powder? I need it bad. Can I take the whole bottle?” Then he began to regale one of the other homeless men, who appeared to be half asleep, resting his chin in his hand as he sat over his now empty cereal bowl.
Next thing I know, I hear Demetrius asking Steve, who is working with me, and “Didn’t you guys say you had some extra socks?”
It’s early, so I’m not going to start with the judging after that wonderful bedtime praying so I just stay quiet. Steve gets the closet key and a few minutes later returns with the socks. He hands them to Demetrius who then turns and hands them to this gentle giant sitting at a table who had not spoken ten words all night. The “giant” mumbles something obviously a little surprised. Then he smiles for the first time in twelve hours, this big grin like a kid at Christmas,
“Hey thanks. I needed these somethin’ awful.”
I can’t help but wonder if Demetrius did some praying about me.
On the way home I’ll feel a little fuzzy from lack of sleep. Funny though … I’ll often sing a hymn or say a prayer out loud as I speed down the expressway back to my family and warm, cozy life. Then I will think of them and know that we are all better for having encountered each other if only for a brief while. I’ll thank God for letting me do this thing that gives me so much more than I could ever give them.

Scott Hicks

Because the beatitudes are so elegantly succinct, we must guard against devaluing them as mere pithy wisdom. Our Lord Jesus was speaking out of the fullness of His Godhead, thus we know that His words are very Truth itself. Christ alone has complete authority to speak of “blessedness,” for He is the Blessed One who descended from Heaven to confer blessedness upon mankind.
In our culture of action and strength, Jesus’ statement on meekness is likely to create confusion, or even anxiety. In a later chapter of Matthew, Jesus elaborates on the concept when he says: “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).
Note the contrast between burden and rest. But what is the burden Jesus speaks of? Some would interpret it as oppression, or poverty, or hard work. In The Pursuit of God (available in our church library) A.W. Tozer defines our burden more broadly and deeply, as something that is borne by all of us – something “from which wealth and idleness can never deliver us.”
Tozer maintains that our burden is pride and observes that “the labor of self-love is a heavy one indeed.” We are invited to ponder how much of our sorrow arises from our perceived injustices at the hands of others: “as long as you set yourself up as a little god to which you must be loyal there will be those who will delight to offer affront to your idol.”
We can only have true peace through rest in Jesus, and meekness is His method. The meek person no longer seeks to be great in the eyes of the world, for he knows that it is not worth the effort. He understands that the constant struggle to protect one’s heart from every slight and defend it against every criticism will never allow for rest, and over time the burden will become intolerable.
The meek man has reckoned himself against God’s goodness, and he fully knows that by this divine standard he is nothing – “a mere worm in the dust.” He has humbled himself to the Creator of the universe, and by doing so he has ceased to care what men think.
The meek man is not a human mouse afflicted with a sense of his own inferiority. Rather he may be in his moral life as bold as a lion and as strong as Samson; but he has stopped being fooled about himself. He has accepted God’s estimate of his own life. He knows he is as weak and helpless as God has declared him to be, but paradoxically, he knows at the same time that he is in the sight of God of more importance than angels. In himself, nothing; in God, everything . . . as he walks in meekness he will be happy to let God defend him. (Tozer)
Once liberated from the burden of pride we can enjoy the same un-self-conscious honesty that enables a three-year-old to splash joyfully in a rain puddle, or tumble laughing in the grass with a puppy. It is the opposite of ignorance – it is intellectual honesty. It is the “blessed relief which comes when we accept ourselves for what we are and cease to pretend.”
Lord, make me childlike. Deliver me from the urge to compete with others for prestige or position. Deliver me from pose and pretense. Forgive me for thinking of myself. Help me to forget myself and find my true peace in beholding Thee. I humble myself before Thee that Thou may answer my prayer. Lay upon me Thy easy yoke of self-forgetfulness that through it I may find rest. Amen.

This passage, from the gospel of John, is both powerful and daunting. For many, these words are the incredible promise of what it means to be connected to the very person of God through Jesus, who walked the planet with us. For others, it seems to serve the primary purpose of excluding all those who do not believe exactly as we do. Undoubtedly, it has been a tool used in the service of condemnation and exclusion—an excuse to say, “You’re not one of us.” For some people with whom I have talked, it is the essence of what they dislike most about Christianity and a reason they cannot embrace our tenets.
Let me make this case:
• Jesus was the most inclusive person, to the date of his birth, who ever walked the planet. He made a ministry of pulling in the outcasts, the unclean, the imperfect, the disdained—he worked and spoke to and included women, children, diseased people, Romans, Jews, Samaritans. If Jesus had meant his followers to be exclusive, his own ministry would have looked extremely different
• Jesus was talking to an intimate group of friends in this passage—his disciples. He was speaking of great mysteries, beyond their comprehension (and, subsequently beyond ours). But he surrounded his words with the language of love—read the passage—over and over again—love and love and love.
The word “true” in Greek is aletheis—this word means coming from the genuine nature of something—valid, trustworthy, confirmed, vetted. Jesus is speaking of his legitimacy here—that his origins, his faith, his work, and his words are trustworthy, because they come from a valid source—God, the Father, the gardener. Our task is not to worry about the behavior or beliefs of those around us (Jesus has quite a bit to say about splinters and logs and not judging others). Our task is to attach ourselves to that genuine source and grow. Rooted, grounded, we are able to become fruitful—without being connected to the source of our strength and our love, we fade and wither.
Accusing Jesus of exclusion is not a defensible position in light of his ministry—such an accusation does not hold up to scrutiny. Using his teachings to be exclusive, therefore, is problematic. What we can do is approach this passage with a sense of who Jesus was, and then we hear him say, “You are part of something wonderful. We are friends—in the truest, deepest sense of the word. And because you know what it means to be friends with me, and because I turn to God as the source of my love, you are also connected to that great love.” Good news—great news for a world where genuine love is hard to come by.