Leaving home
Luke 4:22-30
In "Look Homeward, Angel," Thomas Wolfe famously wrote that you can't go home again. We don't like his thinking. Sadly, though, that doesn't make it any less true.
After Jesus began his ministry, he gained a following and a reputation as he taught, healed, and preached his way around Judea. He returned home and everyone crowed about him--what a good boy! what a name he makes for himself! Then he preached. He was not able to stroll down the aisle to wait for the well-wishes and congratulations at the backdoor from everyone who would say, "I remember when you were crawling around in your daddy's workshop!" Nope--he had to RUN down the aisle, out the door, and out of town as fast as he could go--the homefolks did not take kindly to his preaching at all!
What happened?
He told the truth.
And the truth?
I am not who you think I am; you are not who you think you are; and until we see who we actually are, we have nothing much to say to each other.
Well that smarts.
It is true, but it hurts.
So much for the happy homecoming.
Yet, within this scene is something that helps us as we make our way along our faith journey. To fully comprehend the grace of God, we need to comprehend how desperately we need it. To do that, we need to look in the mirror until we actually see the face that looks back at us.
I grew up in a small town in North Carolina. My father was pastor of a church there. I desperately wanted to live as if that were not so. I loathed being the preacher's kid wherever I went. I went to the library--boom--I was marked. I went out on a date--bang--I was noted. I went for a run--bing--I was tracked. I realized that I could get away with nothing. There were 19000 sets of eyes upon me whether I knew them or not. I just wanted to be me. I just wanted to do what everyone else did. I wanted to get away with it.
Now, I stop in my hometown every time I travel to visit my parents who retired to Virginia. I have had to make the trip a lot over the past year as we endured together their fragile health, the death of my brother, and the subsequent diminishment. I sit in a coffee house by the interstate and have lunch either coming or going. No one marks me. No one notes me. No one tracks me. I have won my anonymity.
I don't like it.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that I LIKED being marked. Much as I rebelled against it, I was safe with all those eyes upon me. I was kept from foolishness. I was encircled enough to be stupid on a very small scale.
I miss being the preacher's kid.
Jesus hopes his kith and kin will come to a similar understanding. God loves them. God needs for them to embody the love he reveals in and through Christ. They rebel against this presence that marks them, notes them, and names them. Jesus needs for them to see who he is--not an upstart who grew beyond his raisin', as my homefolks used to say; but as a voice of love that calls them to see who they are and WHOSE they are.
We do, too.
We are the children of God who loves us with a love beyond all measure. But in that love, God needs for us to be more than we might like to be--we are to travel with him, become love for the world, and grow into the fullness of being his children.
Let's go.
In "Look Homeward, Angel," Thomas Wolfe famously wrote that you can't go home again. We don't like his thinking. Sadly, though, that doesn't make it any less true.
After Jesus began his ministry, he gained a following and a reputation as he taught, healed, and preached his way around Judea. He returned home and everyone crowed about him--what a good boy! what a name he makes for himself! Then he preached. He was not able to stroll down the aisle to wait for the well-wishes and congratulations at the backdoor from everyone who would say, "I remember when you were crawling around in your daddy's workshop!" Nope--he had to RUN down the aisle, out the door, and out of town as fast as he could go--the homefolks did not take kindly to his preaching at all!
What happened?
He told the truth.
And the truth?
I am not who you think I am; you are not who you think you are; and until we see who we actually are, we have nothing much to say to each other.
Well that smarts.
It is true, but it hurts.
So much for the happy homecoming.
Yet, within this scene is something that helps us as we make our way along our faith journey. To fully comprehend the grace of God, we need to comprehend how desperately we need it. To do that, we need to look in the mirror until we actually see the face that looks back at us.
I grew up in a small town in North Carolina. My father was pastor of a church there. I desperately wanted to live as if that were not so. I loathed being the preacher's kid wherever I went. I went to the library--boom--I was marked. I went out on a date--bang--I was noted. I went for a run--bing--I was tracked. I realized that I could get away with nothing. There were 19000 sets of eyes upon me whether I knew them or not. I just wanted to be me. I just wanted to do what everyone else did. I wanted to get away with it.
Now, I stop in my hometown every time I travel to visit my parents who retired to Virginia. I have had to make the trip a lot over the past year as we endured together their fragile health, the death of my brother, and the subsequent diminishment. I sit in a coffee house by the interstate and have lunch either coming or going. No one marks me. No one notes me. No one tracks me. I have won my anonymity.
I don't like it.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that I LIKED being marked. Much as I rebelled against it, I was safe with all those eyes upon me. I was kept from foolishness. I was encircled enough to be stupid on a very small scale.
I miss being the preacher's kid.
Jesus hopes his kith and kin will come to a similar understanding. God loves them. God needs for them to embody the love he reveals in and through Christ. They rebel against this presence that marks them, notes them, and names them. Jesus needs for them to see who he is--not an upstart who grew beyond his raisin', as my homefolks used to say; but as a voice of love that calls them to see who they are and WHOSE they are.
We do, too.
We are the children of God who loves us with a love beyond all measure. But in that love, God needs for us to be more than we might like to be--we are to travel with him, become love for the world, and grow into the fullness of being his children.
Let's go.
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