No, it’s not what you’re thinking. My theological sensibilities are well aware the title is misleading, but hear me out.
I was once in a coffee shop talking to someone who had a convoluted idea of religion. At one point he illustrated the road to salvation as being many. He waved his arm and said everyone sitting in the coffee shop at that time had come from different directions, on different roads, and by different means. “But we all got here just the same. It’s the same when it comes to ‘heaven’ (finger quotes). As long as our goal is to get to heaven, God will make sure we get there. And as long as the person is sincere and does good, no matter what religion or god they believe in, we all make it across the finish line. That’s how I see it.”
No, this post is not touting that. Not by a long shot.
Number one, our goal isn’t heaven, it’s Jesus. And it takes Jesus to get to Jesus. All roads may get you to Rome but only one gets us to the Savior.
Pssst…there is no number two.
This piece has more to do with the many kinds of struggles each of us have in our stories and, regardless of how deep and dark and devilish they may be, we can equally find the mercy of Christ that draws us to himself.
When you open Book 5 of the Psalms you immediately encounter a hymn to the steadfast love of God. It imagines a vast throng of the redeemed “gathered in” from all the cardinal points on a compass (Psa 107:3) to “their desired haven” (v30). It’s the only time “haven” is found in the Hebrew text, denoting a harbor or a safe place. We might call it a refuge.
They all come in curious ways. Some get there crawling, still more on hands and knees, many on their last gasp, and others with the stink of filth all over them. And how did they come to God’s encampment of grace? The *rest* (pun intended) of the chapter outlines it for us:
▪️ “Some wandered in from desert wastes” (v4)
Demoniac. Maniac. Boogeyman. He’s all kinds of crazy and you want nothing to do with him. Let him howl out there in the hinterlands, but make sure your doors are locked at night. Stories about him made children want to crawl into bed with their parents. He’s so bad the devil named him himself (Mark 5:9).
“Legion.”
One demon made him cut himself, another made him foam. Others made him curse and howl and rage against the light. Legion. Thousands. Who knows how many? Some of the demons gave him power to break his shackles. Stand clear of this, this…well, you couldn’t call him a man, could you? More like animal.
Easter comes for these guys too. There he stood, Light and Love, right in front of Legion. Walked right up to him. Sat down on a rock across from him. To everyone else, the creature was scary bad but to Jesus, he was a dying soul in need of a living Savior.
The power of the Man! No, not Legion. Jesus. The first thing he did was address the head demon; made him talk, tell him his name, beg for mercy. Think on this: the scariest demon inside this man crumpled at the voice of Jesus. Once he and his defeated army of demons left the pitiful creature, Jesus turned his attention to the man with eyes, undoubtedly, filled with compassion.
Just like that, the man was free.
Hear the gospel: no one, but no one – absolutely no one – is beyond the merciful reach of Jesus.
▪️ “Some…had been sitting in darkness and deep gloom” (Psa 107:10)
Mary Magdalene, the first witness of the Christ’s resurrection, came to the Easter story out of the dark dystopia of demonic possession (Luke 8:2). Seven demons crippled her soul and out of that gloomy dungeon of despair she found redemption and holy worth.
He brought [her] out of darkness and the shadow of death,
and burst [her] bonds apart.
(v14)
There was a day Jesus came to visit her at her tomb of despair and just before the first light of dawn on Sunday morning, she came to visit him at his. Mary wasn’t expecting to see what happened next, but she was the very first one to see it. She, a woman of questionable pedigree, was the first person to speak to newly-raised Messiah.
The event that was prophesied as early as Eden had an audience of one lone woman. Easter can sound pretty strange to the uninformed, but to the rest of us it makes all the sense in the world.
▪️ “Some were wrecked and ruined by a foolishly sinful life” (v17)
Jesus was being hosted at a dinner party (“party” being generous) when a woman stepped off the street and came into the dining area. Every man in the room sucked in air except Jesus. This unwashed woman was a known adulteress (Luke 7:39). Luke, who’s not disposed to hyperbole, used a label for her describing a whole other category of sinner. His particular word infers the woman has probably been condemned already by the synagogue and cast out, probably for adultery, or that she is perhaps a known prostitute.
Easter came early to her broken soul as Christ’s love resurrected her out of her corruption. The old hymn says,
“nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross I cling.“
This woman had nothing in her hands but she clung to the feet of Jesus, weeping with joy and gratitude and kissing his feet nonstop. She unbundled her hair and used her locks to dry the Savior’s feet.
Jesus didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed at the display. He remained in place, affording her the worship of humanly outlandish proportion. But it could never be enough for her lavishly forgiven heart. Love Incarnate elevated her to sit with him in heavenly places while pious Simon and his judgy buddies were left to deal with their own hardened and condemned hearts.
▪️ “Some because of desperate conditions and terrifying calamities” (Psa 107:23-27)
We call him “Blind Bartimaeus” (Mark 10:46). “Son of Timothy.” That’s like calling me “Tom Mitchell‘s crippled son.” There he was, just outside Jericho, fifteen miles from Jerusalem. He is sitting there with his begging blanket, the cloak used to catch coins tossed in his direction. Suddenly he hears a great noise, a crowd of people cheering and laughing. He’s blind and pathetic so he doesn’t know quite what’s going on but he’s making out some words from the onlookers.
Above the din, his voice is miraculously transported to the ears of Jesus.
“SON OF DAVID, HAVE MERCY ON ME!”
Jesus stopped dead in his tracks. Like the woman on an earlier road hemorrhaging blood, when Jesus knew someone in the crowd had touched him. Well, yeah, Master, everybody’s touching you! You are in a crowd of people pressing in on you! No, Jesus says, not everyone. Someone.
Here too, on this day, among a cacophony of voices, Jesus heard the one. A shipwrecked soul. A drowning man.
“Bring him to me.”
This had never happened to him before. Someone became interested in “blind son of Timothy.”
“He is calling for you.”
Not “son of Timothy” but you. You matter to him. You stopped him dead in his tracks. You will be his last miracle before the cross.
At once the man “sprang” from his prized beggar’s plot, leaving his cloak with coins behind him. Suddenly, Jesus became more important to him than those alms in his blanket. Nevertheless he left it all behind … simply because Jesus called for him (Mark 10:49-50).
Not all roads lead to eternal life. But all roads, especially the hard ones, can lead you to Jesus. It’s through Jesus, who is the Resurrection and the Life, we come to the end of our roads and finally make it home.
Some through the fire
Some through the flood
Some through great trials
But all through the blood.
Some through great sorrow
But God gives a song
In the night season and all day long.”
– George A. Young, God Leads Us Along, 1903
I’m reflecting this Easter season on the many paths of pain that have led me to Jesus. Not just disability, but a host of others. I’ve faced ruin and I’ve been broken up into pieces against the shore more than a few times.
There’s a lot of ugly in my story and things I’d rather not tell you about. Things that took me right up to the rabbit hole and might’ve pushed me over and disappeared me forever – save for the grace of God. I’ve dragged through trackless wastes and crawled on desert floors.
Fire, flood, great trials, you name it. There’ve been times I’ve made my own bed and had to sleep in it and times when the cards were stacked against me. But each and every time I’ve heard the rumor that Jesus is calling for me.
Turns out it was more than a rumor. And because of it,
I give thanks to the Lord
for he is good
and his steadfast love lasts forever (Psa 107:1).
Amen.
(Selah.)
[tipjarwp mode=”button” link_text=”Thank you for your generosity!” open_style=”in_place”]