Wasted Wanderlust

Young people and old people walk along the shore or sit in seats shimmied deep into the sand. They raise koozie-covered cans of Coors Light high with pride while posing for pictures. Explicit music rips out of speakers. Explicit words whip from mouths. And shots tip up.

Noise weakens the splendor of the whooshing whitecap. Filth wrecks the shimmer of the pearly white sand and aqua ocean. What’s meant to point you in wonder of the One who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar points you to scorn those who ridicule him with their abominable habits, abusing the gift of its beauty.

A wayward woman lies westward. Wretched wrongdoers with no willpower but to gulp down another stimulant share a funnel to the east.

Wanderlust brings them here only to wipe out and not remember it once they return home. They stumble in the unstable sand and slur their rotten words like a toothless heathen on a loudspeaker. They miss the awe of it all and also stunt my potential to be awed.

Remove them, and the beauty glares at me. I scoop a handful of sand, letting it fall through my fingers. Every grain, he knows. I stare at the vast and spacious waters which reach the horizon in the distance. He spread out the earth upon the waters and made the division of the sea and the sky. A far away boat bounces across while the wind wisps strands of hair into my eyes. I’m reminded of the wind and the waves that obeyed Jesus on a boat in a storm. He rules the surging sea and stills the mounting waves to a whisper when he sees fit.

Give me blinders, so I can see your splendor. Deafen my ears to what you abhor. But don’t let me be numb to the numbers of the dead here. Can’t you awaken them—wham them in the face when they wade in the rippling water? Can’t you turn their eyes upward and cause them to stand amazed? But even that can’t be enough—can it? They can’t stand and look at what you’ve created, feeling the reality of a being infinitely more powerful than they, and be saved from their wickedness. They can’t repent without knowing what to repent from, nor can they desire to be changed if they don’t see a need to be. Someone must tell them the bad news followed by the good. Shall it be me? Surely you have another one of your people among this innumerable crowd—although it’s hard to believe with the hellish people that surround me.

I get a whiff of beer. Bikinis and bare bottoms are all I see. Lost bodies waddle with no fear of a coming judgment. But one day he will hush their lips and punish the wickedness of their sins. On the beach, they skip and sing, but before a holy God, they wreak—and then they will weep.

What Would Jesus Do?

A homosexual today is like a tax collector in Jesus’s time. The Jews looked at a tax collector and thought “sinner”. And they were sinners! They charged taxes on too much and kept some money for themselves. Zacchaeus, the Chief Tax Collector in Luke 19:1-10, was even worse. He, as the chief, received a portion from each tax collector. His entire fortune came from fraud. When a citizen lost, he gained. By another’s poverty, he became rich. And rich he was!

But Zacchaeus, as sinful as he was, didn’t see himself as too sinful for Jesus. He wanted to see Jesus and perhaps hoped to meet him. Then when Jesus called him, he answered with joy. Without a doubt, he heard of the well-known Jesus. As a short man, he climbed a tree (You know the song) to see him above the crowd. Then Jesus saw him—up in the tree! He called him by name, told him to come down, and insisted on going to his house. And what did Zacchaeus do? He didn’t wallow in shame, nor did he inflate with pride. He climbed down and took Jesus to his house.

The Grumbling Crowd

The crowd saw this and grumbled. A sinner—they thought—with the one who claimed to be the Messiah. Shouldn’t he be holy? How could he defile himself by joining a sinner? This crowd of Jews was sons of Abraham by birth. They lived moral and religious lives. If anyone deserved to dine with Jesus, they did.

Jesus sought Zacchaeus though—the Chief Tax Collector with a reputation. This Chief Sinner, we could say, wanted to see Jesus. And Jesus knew he would see Zacchaeus. By no accident this happened but instead by the providence of God. Zacchaeus climbed the tree. Jesus looked up to the tree. And having never met Zacchaeus before, he calls him by name—as if he knows him already. It was a divine appointment for Jesus the Chief Shepherd to seek the Chief Sinner of his day. Jesus came for this. He didn’t come to seek the righteous but the unrighteous. He didn’t come to redeem the well but the sick. The Shepherd came to seek his lost sheep.

Would We Grumble?

Homosexuals surround us in our day. Perhaps we see them and think “sinners”. And they are sinners. But they are not too sinful to come to Jesus. God works in ways to save the homosexual like he works to save any sinner. Look at the testimonies of Rosaria Butterfield and Jackie Hill Perry. No one exists out of reach from God’s saving arm.

If Jesus lived on earth today, he might choose to dine with a homosexual. Would we grumble like the crowd who saw Jesus with Zacchaeus? Would we too think less of our Savior for doing this?

This is not a plea to love the homosexual AND their sin by asking, “What would Jesus do?” The world mocks Christians in this way. They want us to accept homosexuality and think this would make us more like Jesus. But to love this sin and any sin wouldn’t be like Jesus.

The Necessity of Repentance

Zacchaeus confessed Jesus as Lord. Then he repented of his sin and took action by giving half of his goods to the poor while also restoring fourfold what he stole from others (Luke 19:8). Did he have anything left? Hardly, if you do the math. Zacchaeus did what Jesus commanded the rich young ruler in the chapter before this one (Luke 18:18-30). He confessed Jesus as Lord, repented of his sin, and gave away all he had to follow Jesus. And Jesus said, “Today salvation comes to this house” (Luke 19:9).

Jesus went on a mission to save Zacchaeus by calling him down from the tree and going with him into his home—an intimate act. And Zacchaeus responded to Jesus’s calling with faith and repentance.

Jesus still seeks the lost today. He seeks them to save them. But now since his flesh no longer walks on the earth, he uses us as the means to seek the lost. We share the good news with them and plead for them to repent and believe it.

With the way our world is headed, this modern-day Zacchaeus will be in our daily lives. Are we willing to have an intimate relationship with them? Will we dine with them?

Yet we do not do this to accept or partake in their sin, for Romans 1 condemns this: “Though they know God’s righteous decree that those who practice such things deserve to die, they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them.”

So what would Jesus do? He would seek the lost to save them. He would not fear an intimate relationship, but he would call them to believe the gospel and repent. Psalm 7:12-13 says, “If a man does not repent, God will whet his sword; he has bent and readied his bow; he has prepared for him his deadly weapons, making his arrows fiery shafts.” Don’t let your homosexual friends (and any lost friend) go on without knowing this danger.

If God can save a wretched sinner like Zacchaeus, he can save any wretch. After all, he saved me.

Big Sister Gets In Trouble

A story for children:

I sat on the rug playing with my blue ball. I held it up high. I brought it to my mouth like a kiss. I shook it, and I tossed it. Bounce. Bounce. Roll.

I crawled to get it once more, but as soon as I reached out, a delicate hand scooped down and snatched it up and about. I looked up and saw her—her hands on my blue ball. She held onto it tightly like a hug so it wouldn’t fall.

She swayed her body from the left and to the right. And the smirk on her face made me want to cry. I cried and I cried. That’s what I did. My big sister is a mean sister. And I’m just a little kid.

Then came my Mommy, I am sure, to my defense. “What happened?” she asked. But my sister now looked dense.

We waited and waited and waited, until finally, big sister confessed it right there. Then Mommy took her away—somewhere—but where?

Big sister was in trouble. That I knew. She took my toy and deserved it. True. But for some strange reason, this fact, too, made me kind of sad.

The two of them returned and both with sad faces. Mommy held my big sister whose face looked red in many places. Mommy spoke gently while rubbing her back. She said things like: “I love you, and that’s that.”

I crawled a little closer. Then mommy continued. “No matter how bad your heart leads you to be, nothing can make me not love you—don’t you see? There’s someone who feels similar about me and about you and you too (as she looked down at me). His name is Jesus, and he loves you to the depths of the sea! He loves you more than I do and not for what you do. Nor for how good you can be. Oh, praise thee! All you must do is look to him and simply believe. Then you won’t want to be mean to your brother anymore. You’ll want to love him with the love you’ve been given, and it won’t feel like a chore.”

With this, Mommy stopped talking and picked up the blue ball. She gave it to my sister. Why?—I wondered. But that wasn’t all. She told my sister to give it to me. And my sister hugged me and kissed me and said she was sorry for making me cry.

So I did what I felt like I needed to do. I pulled the blue ball back. I let it go and let it soar. “Ahhhh!” she screamed and we giggled deep in our bellies while lying on the floor.

To Look and Then Do

Clatter, clatter, clatter,

The dishes in the sink and the toys on the floor,

Drawers being shut and cabinets being slammed.

Nothing seems to matter anymore outside these walls.

Inside, I can barely stand.

Like the inside of the walls of my heart,

Clatter, clatter, clatter.

Is it sorrow? Is it guilt? Is it sin?

So much clutter clattering, I don’t know where to begin.

What does it mean to look but not do, or to look and then do?

To look at a man on the cross, the God-man, and gaze,

And be amazed by the grace that he gives.

A gift that is free? Earned not? And deserved not? How can this be?

Before, I thought I was good, deserving my lot,

But that I am not and that I will not be.

Yet one lived and still lives who is,

And he is the One who offers this gift to me.

A gift that covers the litter and flaunts his goodness—not mine.

But now what? How do I look and not do, and then do?

And what is it that I should do?

Look to the cross and rest and live and be amazed,

By his amazing grace.

And walk in new life to please him, obey him, and love him fiercely—as he has loved me.

Clatter, clatter, clatter,

He takes the rummage, and he takes it all.

If I let him.

Oh, Grace of God, let me be amazed by you.

Help me to look and not do, to look and then do.