Lessons from Mark, Part 2

Journal 2018

“That’s why I have come.” (Mark 1:38)

Jesus declares He’s there to preach, but He keeps getting sidetracked by people just wanting their physical needs met. Yet He doesn’t view meeting people’s needs as a distraction. He has compassion on them, even as He continues to fulfill His mission to preach. But there were consequences to His compassion (v. 40). Jesus is hindered from preaching in the villages after He agrees to heal a leper who disobeys Jesus’ command to go to the priest and to keep quiet about it. Jesus may not have been as comfortable sitting on a rock in the sun outside the village instead of meeting people in the privacy of a home or in the synagogue. But God’s Word will not be thwarted. The people find Him and come to Him.

The Triumphal Entry (Mark 11:3)

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

When Jesus gave instructions to His disciples about finding a colt, they were to say to the owner, “The Lord needs it AND will send it back here shortly.” I’ve never before noticed the “and.”

Who kept up with it the whole time they were in Jerusalem? Who returned the colt and when? I know the donkey incident fulfilled scripture, but I still ask, on a practical level, why He did it. Why ride when no one else does? And why a colt?

On Regret (Mark 14:72)

After he denied Jesus three times, Peter broke down and wept.

This strong, overconfident braggadocio with a choleric temperament falls apart when confronted with his own failure. Weeping and repentance are appropriate, but regret can paralyze. Afterwards, shame rushes in to keep one bound. Only Jesus’ gentle question, “Peter, do you love Me?” releases all the shame and regret.

On Envy (Mark 15:9)

Pilot knew that the chief priests handed Jesus over to him out of envy. Envy so blinded their hearts and minds that they were ready to commit murder and release a murderer, Barabbas. How ironic and twisted is that?

Why envy and jealousy? What did Jesus have that they didn’t and that they wanted? A following? Respect? Their pride revolved around self-righteousness. Keeping and teaching the law required years of study and hard work. They had their Ph.D. in the subject, after all, and along comes an uneducated Galilean who has more wisdom and more knowledge than they’ve gained in a lifetime of study. And something else—He has power. They’d never seen anything like it, and they were afraid because they were losing control. When we lose control, we feel powerless and vulnerable, and we don’t like that feeling. What if Jesus was teaching the truth? Then my lifetime of self-effort turns to dust, and I am left humble and humiliated like Saul.

Humble yourself in the sight of God and He will lift you up (James 4:10).

The way up is down. Counterintuitive. “Let go and let God” is more than a cliche.

Jesus’ Torture (Mark 14)

We usually focus on the whipping, which would be pain beyond endurance in itself, but today as I read this account, I realized He most likely had brain damage or a concussion due to the blows on His thorn-crowned head. And add to that, sleep deprivation. No one without supernatural ability could stay present through this all and have a coherent thought in his head. All a person wants in the midst of torture is for the pain to cease. How did Jesus stay true to Himself?

“My God, My God” (Mark 15:33)

A popular song claims that the Father turned His face away at the cross. What utter nonsense. Jesus was feeling temporary separation from His Father, but God does not turn His back on us when we suffer or sin. The Father’s love is infinite and complete, and He embraced the pain along with His Son. Turning away would be avoidance or denial. Pain yes, but not separation. As part of the Trinity, the Spirit felt pain at the cross as well.

My trauma clients often ask, “Where were You, God, when it happened?”

And He always answers, “I was there. I felt your pain along with you.”

On Regret

Journal 2006

Regret is like being covered in mud—easily washed off with some divine truth. But if my actions cause others to suffer (whether intentional or not), and they end up with mud in their eye, saying sorry doesn’t reverse the consequences.

One time, I accidentally ran over a cat that darted in front of me. Out of the house flew a lady screaming, “You murdered my Fluffy!” I was terribly sorry it happened; I duly apologized and offered to assist her, but she refused my help. I had to leave her sobbing in the street, dead kitty in her arms, with the pain of her loss in her heart.

I am no murderer. Involuntary kitty-slaughterer, yes, but it was an accident. I felt sorry for the cat and for the lady, but there was absolutely nothing I could do to resurrect that animal or ease the woman’s pain. I prayed for them both.

I had metaphorically kicked sand in her eyes. I can apologize and offer to help wash it out. At the point of her refusal, however, my obligation is done. It is her choice to tolerate the sand and not wash it out herself. All I can do is walk away—or sit on a log and watch—and if she starts to stumble, to catch her because she can’t see the logs under her feet. But if she refuses my help or rejects me, I’m wasting my time staying with her on the beach.

Addendum: the cat lady’s neighbor put my mind at ease when she came out to see the commotion. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m not surprised. It was just a matter of time before that dumb cat would get hit, for it kept crossing the street.”

Dropping Stones

Journal 2005

My heart hurts when my children are not at peace, and my soul longs for growth and godliness for each of us. I’m weighed down by a stone that is too heavy to carry, and I drop this boulder on someone’s foot. The thought that I might have hurt someone, even inadvertently, is heinous to me. I feel helpless to make it right because, even if I apologize, and even if they forgive me, the damage is done, and it’s my fault. I feel regret and sorrow.

When I sin deliberately and someone gets hurt, I am accountable for the damage. If I sin inadvertently or unintentionally, God knows my heart. He can turn the stone into flower petals. And if I seek reconciliation and I repent and confess my part in the hurt, He can restore and bless and soften the blow.

O, Lord, bring rose petals to my family today. Open our eyes to see truth and give us courage to act upon it. Amen.