Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Excitement shot through his veins at the words. Finally. Today was the day! Now was the moment he’d been anticipating. Knowing it was coming had nothing on its actual arrival. He would jump and skip and clap his hands if it was socially acceptable. His joy was all-consuming. His heart was overflowing. The tears on his face came from a place of thanksgiving. What God had promised, He had done. The land of Hebron was finally his. Not one word of God’s promise had failed. Not that Caleb had expected them to. He hadn’t. He knew they wouldn’t. No matter how long he had to wait for it. (Joshua 14:6-14)

Forty-five years ago, God had made Caleb this promise. The land of Hebron would be his inheritance. A gift for his faithfulness. He’d been 40 years old at the time. Old enough to have a wife and family. Old enough to want land and space of his own. Old enough to strategize battles, lead troops, go to war. Old enough to stand up for what he believed when nearly no one else would. Old enough to understand the value, the necessity, the urgency of believing in God’s power and resting in His promises even when things looked impossible, improbable, impregnable. Unaware his position was one of a minority, Caleb was caught off guard by the things he heard the men report, the doubt in their voices, the adamant refusal to go up and conquer Canaan when they had the opportunity.       

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Had they not all gone to the same place? Had they not toured the same land, spied on the same people, drank from the same clear streams, and walked the same lush grasslands? Hadn’t they all been heavily laden with grapes and pomegranates and figs as they came back into camp? Yes, they had also seen the people. Yes, they were descendants of Anak. Yes, they were large–huge, even. But this was clearly the land God had promised them. This was obviously where they were supposed to dwell. Yet the guys around him were calling “retreat” rather than yelling “advance.” 

Why? What had happened to them? Who had gone soft? Who was scared? Who was so faithless as to believe the people, arguably giants, of that land were greater than the God of Israel? Were they even acquainted with God? Had they already forgotten what he was capable of doing? Did they doubt, even for a millisecond, that God couldn’t, wouldn’t defeat these people for them? Did they really believe God would fail to do what He promised? Did they think God would tease them with the fantastic plethora of goodness before them, yet pull back and fail to deliver? Ridiculous! God would never renege on His promise. He said it. He would do it. Whether now or later. It would happen. Caleb believed. 

He said so. Into the bickering and dissenting, Caleb spoke. His distress at their unbelief was obvious. What was wrong with them? They could do this! They could win! Now. Today. God was with them. Right now. This place was what He had in store for them. It was exactly what He said it would be. A good land. Extremely good. Excellent, even. Overflowing with lush pastures and clear streams. Laden with loaded fruit trees and heavy grape vines. Every physical need would be met if they set up residence here. This was definitely the place. This was absolutely the moment. Now was the time their faith needed to triumph over their fear. The day when they girded their shaking selves in armor and went into battle trusting not in their own swords, spears, or strength, but fully trusting in the power of God to do exactly what he promised. Victory was certain. If they would just go do it. 

Unfortunately, Caleb was outnumbered and outvoted. Only Joshua stood with him. While they were ready to go fight the battle and take the land for themselves and their children, the rest of the men weren’t. The picturesque land with its abundant goodness wasn’t enough to erase their memory of the people there. It may even have been embellished between the visit and the report. By the time they got home, the men were talking of immensely strong people inhabiting impossibly fortified cities. Giants were in the land. Terrifying giants. The six-fingers on one hand kind of giants. One of those men could crush ten of their men with one hand. It was horrible. It was panic-inducing. It couldn’t be done. Wouldn’t be wise to go engage. The wonderful harvests of the land weren’t worth the obvious loss of life they would suffer. They needed to abandon the idea. For now, at least. Maybe forever. They simply didn’t believe this was God’s plan for them right now. Maybe it never would be. 

Frustrated and disappointed, Caleb stood his ground. He wasn’t budging. Had no reason to do so. God hadn’t brought them this far only to let them down. He wasn’t going to fail this time. If God was sending them to conquer the land of Canaan, He would make sure it happened. God would go before them. God would fight beside them. Caleb’s faith knew He could trust God’s strength to give them victory. But when the consensus came down, the majority disagreed. They didn’t want to go up. They were too scared. Too faithless. Too unbelieving. They simply didn’t believe this was the land God had promised as He delivered them from captivity in Egypt.  

One wonders why they didn’t believe. Or, perhaps more accurately, what they didn’t believe? Did they not believe they could win the battle, or did they not believe they would have to fight for it? Were God’s people under the impression He would easily hand them this magnificent land on a silver platter because He had chosen them as His special possession? Did they really believe there would be no work to do, no pain involved, no hardship to come? Would it be such a shock if they did? They had made a lot of assumptions in the time since they left Egypt. It seems they believed they would reach the promised land very quickly once they escaped. They didn’t see a reason for the detour around Philistine territory when a shorter path existed. They weren’t expecting a journey where food was simple and water was scarce. Within a short period of time, the Israelites were acting like entitled brats. Whining. Complaining. Demanding. Expecting. But they weren’t expecting God to make them fight for the promised land. No. They expected Him to simply hand it to them. Except for Caleb. (Exodus 13-17; Numbers 13-14, 32:8-13)

Caleb wasn’t having any part of that mess. Yes, he wanted to be in the promised land as much as anyone. Yes, it would be fantastic if the current inhabitants quietly pulled up stakes and moved on before the Israelites got there. But God hadn’t planned it that way. He’d planned a battle. And Caleb knew that if God had planned a battle, He had also planned a victory. For His people. Standing squarely on that fact, he faithfully cast his vote with God and refused to budge. He would follow God. Completely. Unreservedly. Unequivocally. And God saw that. He saw Caleb’s faith in His power and promise. He saw Caleb’s willingness to be obedient. And God blessed him with a promise. He would have that land. He would own it. Every place he had just explored would belong to him and his descendants. Eventually. (Deuteronomy 1:36)

That is where we would have tripped up. Every one of us. We don’t do “eventually.” We operate in the here and now. Right now. We pray and expect an answer the minute the words leave our lips. We receive a promise from God and expect it to fit our timetable. We believe expectant waiting is honored in our version of a preferred timetable. We hear “I will take care of you” and expect a sudden six-figure income, an instantaneous healing, an immediate change of someone’s heart. We ask for the salvation of friends and loved ones, then become discouraged when it doesn’t happen that very week. We call on God for needs and wants, but start to doubt when the answer doesn’t come in the way and time we thought it would. We pray for direction, but falter in fear and look for an alternate route when the obstacles in the path seem insurmountable. We aren’t at all about waiting for God to make good on His promise. We want it and we want it now. 

No doubt Caleb would have preferred his reward right then as well. He was just as human as we are. There is no passage to indicate he had infinite patience. There must surely have been times when doubts assailed his mind, making him question if he had correctly heard the words God spoke to Moses. He must have wondered how long it would take. As his sons were born, it is likely he considered whether or not he’d have that land to pass down before his boys were looking for plots of their own. And yet, as the years passed with no land grant occurring, Caleb’s faith didn’t grow weaker, didn’t falter, didn’t fail. Caleb believed God would make good on His promise. And He did. Four and a half decades later. 

Caleb was eighty-five when God fulfilled His promise. The land God had promised him half a lifetime ago was finally his. God had preserved him for this moment. He’d seen many battles, but survived them all. He’d aged in years but not in body. He was still fit and well, and strong. God hadn’t let him become frail and old and unable to enjoy the land. God had protected and preserved Caleb and was now prospering him because of his faith. Not just the faith of decades ago that encouraged them to advance on the land and take it because of God’s promise, but the faith Caleb exhibited in the ensuing years after the promise was made. Tested faith. Victorious faith. Faith that gave him the patience to wait for it. (James 1:3) 

I don’t know what promise God has given you. Redeemed situations. Restored relationships. Rescued lives. I don’t know how long ago you first heard those words. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. I do know this. No matter how long it takes, God will do it. He never falls short on His promises. He doesn’t write checks the bank of Heaven can’t cash. God doesn’t spend His words unwisely. He says only what He means. He does exactly what He says. You can take His word in full confidence that whatever He promised, He will perform. Even if you have to wait for it. Even if you wonder when. Even if you doubt yourself and your ability to hear God speak. Don’t doubt God. He will keep His promise. In His way. In His time. He will do it. So wait for it. (Ecclesiastes 3:11; Psalm 27:14; Hebrews 10:35; Matthew 21:21; II Corinthians 1:20)

Wait as long as it takes. Pray for it. Over and over again. Bring it back to His attention. Not because He forgot. He didn’t. Bring it to His attention because it helps you leave it with Him and keeps your faith resting on His power alone. Do the things you need to do. Walk the path He puts before you. Live your life while you wait for His promise to be fulfilled. Because it will be. Now. Later. It doesn’t matter. God never fails. Your soul knows that. So rest in that truth. Clutch His promise to your heart and refuse to doubt. Refuse to be dissuaded. Put your faith in God and keep it there. Believe He will perform what He has promised. Even if you have to wait for it. (Romans 8:25; Numbers 23:19; Luke 1:37; Psalm 37:7, 34; 105:8; 130:5; Hebrews 10:23)

An air of anxiety blanketed the people as they slowly began to dismantle the camp. Bags were packed. Tents were folded. Oxen were yoked. It had to be done. It was time to move on. Even if they weren’t ready. And they really weren’t. Thirty days of mourning the man who had faithfully led them through rivers and wars, losses and wins, didn’t seem like enough. They weren’t ready to leave this place. Leave behind the last vestiges of his spirit. It was impossible to envision a future that didn’t include Moses. He’d been there all their lives. His transition from earth to heaven left a gaping hole in their company, their confidence. With Moses gone, everything seemed unsettled, every decision seemed up for debate. Except one. They couldn’t stay here. This wasn’t the promised land. They had to keep moving. They had to place their fragile trust in the previous instruction of Moses and follow his successor into the unknown. (Deuteronomy 34)   

Surely Joshua realized the enormous shoes he was tasked to fill. Certainly he noticed the hesitancy and concern etched on every face. It was understandable. Not because the people didn’t know or have faith in Joshua. They did. He had held positions of leadership before, under Moses. Never on his own. He had never been the one bringing commands from God’s lips to their ears. And, even though they had watched as Moses laid his hand on Joshua and prayed the Spirit of God over him, even though they knew his instructions were to follow God the same way his predecessor had, knowing Moses had been training Joshua for this exact moment, they were still uncomfortable. None of the training or ceremonies, or given instructions mattered. None of this knowledge eased their discomfort. They were still nervous. Because people change. They knew that historically. Personally. Embarrassingly. The children of Israel, themselves as well as their ancestors, were explicit examples. (Numbers 27:12-23)

They had a history of inconsistency. All of them. Rarely did their yes mean yes or their no mean no. With one breath they would vow to strictly adhere to every single command and law God gave them. With the next, they would hare off down their own path. It took very little to make it happen. Like Moses being gone for 40 days. That had been a debacle. Idle hands and minds had designed and built an idol, a golden calf. The people then had danced and sung and partied before it as though it was their saving grace. It wasn’t. God was. They knew that, but their changing hearts led them astray. They angered God and Moses both. Coming back down the mountain into the camp, Moses had done what he always did. Interceded with God for them. Brought them back to the place they were supposed to be. They wondered how Joshua would handle a similar situation. Because there was likely to be one. (Exodus 32)

Admittedly, they were not always an easy people to lead. Their moods were constantly changing. Their frustration was limitless. They frequently looked back to measure what they had in Egypt with what they didn’t have on their journey to the promised land. Yes. They knew exactly how capricious humanity could be. Their constant vacillating between jubilant thanksgiving and thunderous grumbling was a frequent reminder of the fickleness of the human heart. What they didn’t know, what they hadn’t seen, was if Joshua carried Moses’ ability to get them back on track, encourage them when they were struggling, support them when they were weak, and infuse their hearts and lives with urgent desire to obey the words and commands of God. (Numbers 11:1-15)

Knowing Joshua for a lifetime didn’t mitigate their concern. In a moment of complete honesty, they were forced to admit this could go a lot of ways. Still. Moses was gone. He wasn’t coming back. The days of mourning his passing were now expired. It could take months or years for their saddened hearts to recover. But they couldn’t stay here in the wilderness forever. There was only one choice. Believe, however tentatively, that God rested on Joshua. Believe that He spoke to him in a similar way as He did to Moses. Trust Joshua’s wisdom, follow his guidance, adhere to his direction. Even when it seemed ridiculous. Even when they had better ideas. Even when it appeared ill-advised. They had no other option but to follow Joshua to the promised land. 

It must have been equally difficult for Joshua to step up and stand in Moses’ place. Moses, who knew God face to face. Moses, who had led these people every step of their journey. Moses, who was respected and revered. To stand in that gap was a massive responsibility. It would have been easy to feel overwhelmed. God knew that. And He spoke the same promise to Joshua that He gave to Moses. Nothing about God was going to change. Ever. His nature wouldn’t alter with the change in leadership. His heart for the people wouldn’t turn away every time they sinned. His plan for their future wouldn’t be altered by king’s plans or enemies’ devices. God and His plan would remain the same. Always. He would be with Joshua just like He was with Moses. He would never walk away or leave him to figure things out on his own. He would guide every step, direct every battle, and lead every part of the journey until they reached their final destination. Joshua had only to do his part. Be strong and courageous. Be faithful and obedient. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let the people, the enemies, or the unexpected situations cause discouragement. Rely on God. Completely. Trust Him to be with them the entire way. Know that not one word of God’s promises will fail. Ever. God’s got this. (Deuteronomy 34:10; Joshua 1:1-9; 21:45)

Somehow, it is difficult for us to see Joshua as needing this reminder. We picture him as some pillar of faith who never knew a second of doubt in his life. As children, we listened to the accounts of Jericho’s demise and Ai’s eventual devastation, and Joshua becomes a fearless, faithful, invincible hero. And he was. But he also needed to be reminded, over and over, to abandon his fear and have faith in His God. As he set his men to re-engage Ai after being trounced in the initial attempt. When they were called to help the Gibeonites in their fight against five Amorite kings. When the kings of the northern cities joined forces to form an enormous army and came to attack Israel. Through every event, God’s message never changed. It was always the same. “Don’t even worry about it. Trust me. I’ve got this.” Regardless of the change in leadership, the increasing anxiety, the ferocity of the enemy, or the obvious impending doom, God was still sovereign. He had never reneged on His promises, and He wasn’t about to start. The truth was simple and consistent. There was no need to worry. God had them covered. (Joshua 8:1; 10:8, 25; 11:1-15)

He still does. Centuries later. God still has His people covered. Although it may feel like there are a million things to worry about, to stress over, to prepare for, God hasn’t changed. He never will. He is still the same God. His power hasn’t diminished with time. His authority hasn’t waned with the passing years. No matter who is in power. No matter what is happening in your life. No matter how anxious the news makes you. God is still God. Sovereign. Omniscient. Omnipotent. Omnipresent. He is still calling the shots. All of them. Whether you see it or not. He has not abdicated His throne or tossed the spinning orb of our planet out of His sight. He is busy. He is working. He is making all things new. Just the way He said He would. So. As you sit and fret over the most recent news broadcast, the opinions of the radio pundits, the opposing viewpoints on social media, or the racing and worrisome thoughts in your own mind, take a moment to silence the clamour of those voices and listen to the voice that matters. The only voice that matters. The voice of God. Your God. Hear Him as He soothes your fears and calms your soul. Know that whatever your “this” is, God’s got it. Whatever you are facing or fearing. Whatever you are hoping or dreading. Whatever you are wanting or wishing. God’s got it covered. He is already in the middle of that situation. He is already working for your good. So still your soul. Silence your heart. Listen carefully as He speaks to you the same words He’s historically spoken to His people as they faced horrific battles, unfortunate circumstances, and an unknown future, “Don’t even worry about it. Trust Me. I’ve got this.” Because He does. (Isaiah 26:3, 43:2, 19; Revelation 21:5; John 10:28-30; Psalm 33:11, 55:22, 85:8, 118:6, 136:16; Hebrews 13:6; Philippians 4:6-7; Deuteronomy 31:6, 8; Exodus 14:14)

Eyebrows rose in skepticism as the words resounded over the gathered crowd. Do. Not. Judge. He couldn’t be serious! Did He really want them to throw out their entire rulebook and just wing it? Let everybody in? Let anybody in? It was such a foreign concept. Acceptance without judgment. It simply wasn’t done. For decades they had carefully cultivated rules that, if strictly held, would allow them to judge the holy from the unholy. Traditions that had long been their measuring line for proper living. Conformity was mandatory. No one could be accepted unless they looked like them, acted like them, and talked like them. Now Jesus’ words were turning their whole system on its head. Let everyone in, He said. Without pointing fingers, nudging elbows, or jutting chins. Without whispered comments or ugly thoughts. Simply put, do not judge. At all. It was a foreign idea. (Matthew 7:1)

Judging others was the Pharisaical order of the day. They were used to stringing up their self-made measuring line to determine if others were adhering to their standards. It was its own kind of tradition. Everyone did it. Especially the Pharisees. More than once they whipped out their list of rules and questioned why Jesus wasn’t adhering as they thought He should. Why didn’t His disciples wash their hands before eating? Why did Jesus allow His men to pick and eat grain on the Sabbath? Why did Jesus desecrate their Sabbath by healing the sick? How could He possibly be the Messiah when He so busily engaged in things their rules and traditions stood firmly against? (Mark 2:24, 3:1-6, 7:5; Matthew 7:1, 23:1-39)

He couldn’t. That was their decision. Jesus couldn’t be the Messiah because He didn’t act the way they thought He should. He didn’t strictly follow their rules. He didn’t fully embrace their traditions. Their Messiah would do all those things. They were sure of it. He would strictly obey and enforce their distorted letter of the law and, consequently, prove His credibility. Who He was. What He was. Why He came. It was through this obedience, this outward action, that they would determine if He was the promised Messiah. But they were disappointed. He couldn’t be. He didn’t rigidly follow the rules. From where they stood, judging His every move, it seemed He bent the rules nearly to the point of breaking. His fraudulent claims were quickly apparent. He was not their Messiah. Obviously. And it chafed severely to have Him stand before them, clearly calling them out, and say, “Do not judge.”  

It was not a new message. Centuries before, God said similar words to the prophet Samuel. Traveling to Bethlehem, he assumed he would recognize the type of king God wanted. Young. Tall. Muscular. Good looking. Old enough to have at least a modicum of life experience on which to base his judgments. A man exactly like Eliab, Jesse’s firstborn. He fit every single descriptor. His height would command attention. His looks would enamor the ladies. Whether or not there was anything but air between his ears, Samuel had no idea, but by appearance alone, he would be happy to anoint Eliab as the next king. Except God wouldn’t allow it. 

God knew Eliab. Really knew him. He wasn’t swayed by a handsome face, bulging biceps, or extraordinary height. God didn’t even see those things. God saw his heart. Something there wasn’t right. Something inside Eliab wasn’t properly aligned with the type of king God wanted to lead His people. Samuel had no idea it was there. He couldn’t see it. Had no idea what it was. There were no outward indicators. Everything he could see looked like the makings of the next great king. But God saw it. Because God doesn’t look at one’s appearance or stature, birth order or authority level. God looks at the heart. And God said Eliab wasn’t the guy. In fact, He turned down the first seven of Jesse’s sons. 

One by one Jesse proudly paraded them before Samuel. One by one, for no reason Samuel could ascertain, God said no. Turning to Jesse, Samuel asked if that was the lot of them. Were there any sons not present? In an offhand manner, filled with dismissal that the youngest son could even be a contender, Jesse said David was off tending sheep. He clearly didn’t consider David able to lead a nation. Perhaps it was his age. Maybe it was his stature. Perhaps he didn’t have the chiseled features of his older brothers. Maybe Jesse didn’t want to lose his shepherd. Regardless of the reason, Jesse didn’t even offer to send for him.

Undeterred by Jesse’s reticence to offer his youngest son, Samuel insists the lad be brought before him. In fact, he says no one gets to eat until David arrives. One wonders what is said in the interim. More importantly, what is not said. What is going on in the minds and hearts of the already rejected elder brothers? Did their hearts twist with envy? Did their features contort with rage? Were their minds actively working out a plan for revenge? Or were they simply stymied how David could possibly be an option? He was the youngest. The last, the littlest, the least. There was nothing to set him above them. Not in looks, stature, experience, or ability. Nothing they could see made him royalty. But it was there. In his heart. God saw it. 

The Bible doesn’t tell us what was hiding in the hearts of the elder brothers that made God deem them unfit to rule. What it does tell us is that God isn’t impressed with the things that impress us. Good looks. High-end clothes. Flash cars. God isn’t interested in eloquent speech and an extensive vocabulary. He isn’t swayed by accolades, accomplishments, or academic prowess. He doesn’t care about the name drops. What God cares about, what really matters to Him, the only thing that counts at all, is what He sees in one’s heart. (I Samuel 16:1-12)

It was the point of His message to Samuel. It was the lesson He spoke in the Sermon on the Mount. It is the point of the words He inspired James to write. Don’t judge. At all. It isn’t your place. You have no idea what you are looking for. You are wasting time measuring one’s wealth and prestige. You are silently appraising their clothes, valuing their car, checking their haircut and manicure, but knowing nothing of the condition of their heart. You have done a thorough inspection of their outward appearance, listened to their excellent vocabulary, been captivated by their storytelling, but that is all you know. You don’t know what they are really all about. You don’t know what is in their heart, yet that is all that matters. What is in the heart is the most important part of a person. And it can’t be seen in a cursory glance. You’ll have to spend time with them to truly know who they are. (James 2:1)

That’s the rub for us. Spending time with people we deem unworthy of our time and attention. The poor. The aged. The ill. The odd. It is easy, enjoyable even, to spend time with the beautiful, active, exciting people of society. We rush to be in their presence. Hang on their every word. Brush off their theological inaccuracies because we so desperately want to be part of their circle. And, where we would never outwardly tell the unfortunately aromatic, socially unacceptable bag lady not to enter our sanctuary, we wish she wouldn’t. We don’t care to spend time with her. We don’t want to know her. We have no intention of determining her theological standpoint, because we have already judged her poorly by what our eyes can see.  

James, in his epistle, talks candidly about this behavior. He nearly quotes Jesus’ command. Do not judge. Only James uses different words. Do not show favoritism. Don’t bestow honor and favor on the one who strides confidently into your midst spouting wisdom and drenched in obvious riches. Don’t offer them the best place in the house. Don’t fawn over them. Don’t treat the poor person who follows them into your church as if they are less than the one who preceded them. Don’t dismiss them. Don’t make them feel unwanted or out of place. Don’t judge people based on what you see, because, quite frankly, your eyesight is cloudy. You don’t see the whole picture. The poor person may be a prayer warrior, full of faith, and deeply in love with Jesus. The rich person might be the world’s best actor, faking spirituality and leading people astray. They may be doing all the right things on the outside, quoting all the right words, yet their heart is hardened and darkened by sin. You will never know by looking at them. You can’t see their hearts. Only God can. (James 2:1-7)

In a startling truth that resounds from the page centuries after he lifted his pen, James issues a sobering truth. When you judge others and show favoritism, you are sinning. You are flagrantly breaking the commandment Jesus called the second greatest. Love your neighbor as yourself. Treat others how you would like to be treated. Do to others what you wish others would do to you. Are you doing it? Really doing it? From your heart? Are you speaking and acting in a way that reflects a heart changed by mercy and grace? Are you engaging with others in a way that makes them feel respected and loved no matter who they are or how they look? Are you welcoming people, all people, into your life, your church, because the love of God is alive and working in you? Are your words and actions a correct depiction of the secrets you keep in the deepest recesses of your heart? Are you a fraud or a follower? Rest assured, God knows. (James 2:8-13; Luke 6:31, 16:15; Ephesians 4:32; Mark 12:31; Matthew 12:34; Proverbs 21:2; Jeremiah 17:10; John 7:24) 

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t been warned. They had. Clearly. Concisely. In an eloquent speech, Judah’s king, Abijah, stood on Mount Zemaraim and listed Israel’s sins. Some of them, at least. Their entirety was likely longer than he had time to detail. They had divided the kingdom of David. They had rebelled against God and His appointed king. The people had banished the priests of the Lord and chosen new priests to preside over the worship of the golden calves their newly chosen king had created for them to worship. And now they had come against Judah as if they could win a war against the Lord’s kingdom. (II Chronicles 10)

Maybe they could. In theory. By the numbers, it wasn’t impossible. Judah had four hundred thousand warriors. Israel had twice as many. Measured in physical strength alone, Israel clearly had the advantage. Any other kingdom would be terrified to face an army of such magnitude. Any other people would be worried for the lives of their friends and family. Any other king would have scoured the countryside for more men to enlist, more kingdoms to unite with, more people to engage in the battle. Not Judah. Not Abijah. They weren’t worried. At all. Not even a little. They didn’t need to be. 

All of Judah knew who their God was. They knew His power. They knew His consistency. They knew they could trust Him. They had been doing it for a while now. Having chosen God as their Lord, they had never abandoned Him. Every command He issued was followed with diligent accuracy. Every requirement He set forth was their delight to fulfill. They had dedicated themselves, their hearts, their lives to be God’s alone. He was their leader. In everything. They wouldn’t march into battle on the flimsy hope to somehow come out on top. No. They would confidently stride out to face an army twice their size, knowing God went before them. He would deliver them. God would never abandon the people who had not abandoned Him. 

This was the warning Abijah issued before the ambush was set, before the first battle cry rang out, before the first sword was drawn, before the priests of the Lord blasted their trumpets. He begged Jeroboam and the army of Israel to listen up. Evaluate their choices. Consider the consequences. Decide if this action was in their own best interest. Because it wasn’t. Fighting against God never was. It would never be successful. Those who chose not to follow the requirements God had explicitly laid out for them would never succeed in a battle against Him. God would always win. His people would always be victorious. Choosing to start a fight with them was pointless. Yet Jeroboam refused to listen. 

No one knows why Jeroboam chose to proceed with the battle. Arrogance? Ignorance? Purposeful obtuseness? Regardless of the reason, he pushed Israel’s army ahead. Dividing his men, he strategically surrounded Judah’s army. The visible army faced them. The ambush approached from the rear. Judah had nowhere to turn. No space was free from impending battle. Fear gripped their hearts. Panic clawed at their throats. Concern for the outcome of the battle teased the corners of their minds. Then they remembered the choice they had made. The one to follow God. Always. Obey God. Consistently. Dedicate themselves to the service of the Lord. Forever. And they remembered His promises to those who did so. Victory. Looking around that battlefield, seeing the opposition on every side, knowing they were grossly outnumbered and the odds were severely stacked against them, Judah did the only thing they could do. They called in the heavy artillery. They cried out to the Lord. (Deuteronomy 28:1-13)

We don’t know what they said to God. There is no record of their pleas. There is no indication of how long they prayed or how quickly God answered. We have no way to know how much time elapsed between the first frisson of fear and the triumphant blast of the priests’ trumpets. Those things aren’t really important. What we need to know is written in the account. When things got tough, when it looked impossible, when they were hugely outnumbered by the enemy, Judah had such a committed relationship with God that they called on Him and He answered. Their commitment to and dependence on God is the reason they succeeded. The only reason. It wasn’t strength or cunning. They had neither. They weren’t blessed with the most strategic military minds. Their weapons weren’t advanced or superior. The reason they won, the cause of their success, was because they chose God to be their Lord. They chose obedience to Him when it wasn’t popular or easy. They chose to depend on God’s strength rather than their own, and they felt comfortable in doing so, because they knew from historical records, if not personal experience, that no one wins against the Lord. 

Five hundred thousand warriors of Jeroboam’s original eight hundred thousand died that day. It was unnecessary. There was absolutely no reason for those men to lose their lives. They had every chance to change their minds. They were warned. Not just with a single sentence warning, but with facts and evidence that highlighted their inevitable defeat. If they chose to come against the people who had chosen God as their Lord, defeat was unavoidable. And it wasn’t just a blow to the army of Israel. It was a blow to their chosen king as well. Jeroboam found his power slipping away. Eventually, the Bible tells us, God struck him and he died. (II Chronicles 13)

None of that had to happen. Not one man had to die. No one had to lift a sword against another. If they had all simply decided to make the Lord their God, the skirmish would never have occurred. We wouldn’t read about it. Wouldn’t even consider it. They could all have lived to a ripe old age. If they had listened when they were warned. If they had made the right choice. If they had chosen God as their Lord. 

Abijah tried to warn them. In carrying out the commands and requirements of God, he attempted to put them on the right path. Warning them of the dangers of creating other gods and appointing priests to treat them like God. He carefully adhered to the words written in Deuteronomy. He kept his own house clean. No idols. No false priests. No worship of anything that wasn’t God. He challenged Jeroboam to do the same. He tried to watch for Jeroboam’s soul. He admonished him and his people to stay true to God and bear good fruit. He warned them of the consequences and offered them the option of changing their minds. When it was all said and done, they opted out. But Abijah and the people of Judah didn’t. They held to what they knew to be true. They chose to follow God rather than running off down a nicer path, an easier route, a justifiable detour. And God blessed them with victory. (Deuteronomy 29:9, 16-21)

It is such a familiar tale. Perhaps not this exact account, but the concept. Nearly every day, I hear another report, read another article, watch another broadcast underscoring just how closely our day relates to Abijah’s. Everyone is divided. Countries. Communities. Churches. That one worries me the most. The people who claim to be God’s are divided among themselves. They are all choosing their own truth. Determining their own god. Forging their own path. The commands and principles of God, written by His own hand and inspired by His Holy Spirit, are up for discussion and subject to re-interpretation. That frightens me. Because God’s words, His truths, His rules don’t bend or break. His word doesn’t change. Nor does God Himself. He is always the same. (II Peter 1:21; Matthew 24:35; Hebrews 13:8; Malachi 3:6; Isaiah 40:8)

We are the ones who change. When our hearts turn aside to the thing we love more. When our eyes fix on something we want more. When our souls yearn for something instant and earthly. It is then we begin to finagle God’s word to say what we want it to mean. Unfortunately for us, no amount of verbal maneuvering or theological manipulation will change the meaning and intent of God’s original commands. God’s word stands. Alone, if necessary. And we are called to do the same. Called to stand with Judah and Abijah. Called to stand up for right and truth in a world constantly altering its perceptions of those things. Called to firmly plant our spiritual feet and proclaim, “As for us,” we refuse to abandon the words and teachings of God. We won’t change them to be more palatable. We won’t give them new meaning that better fits society’s desires. We won’t engage in the dangerous business of adding or taking away from them. For us, right now, today, we choose the Lord as our God. Forever. (Psalm 119:89, 160; Numbers 23:19; Proverbs 30:5-6; Deuteronomy 4:2; Matthew 5:18)

Are you there? Have you made your choice? Popular or unpopular. Comfortable or uncomfortable. Have you taken your stand, planted your feet, and proclaimed your intentions? Have you purposefully chosen to follow God? Is He your Lord? Are you meticulously adhering to His requirements? No matter what friends or family choose. Regardless what society says. No matter how persuasive the pundits are. Do your actions and words unmistakably reflect your choice? As for you, have you chosen the Lord as your God? Forever. (Joshua 24:15; Deuteronomy 30:19, 31:6; Exodus 19:5-6; II Peter 2:1-3; I Corinthians 15:58; James 1:12; II Thessalonians 2:15; Ephesians 4;14-19; Colossians 2:8; Jude 1:4, 12-13, 19)

They had all seen him a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. They were used to him sitting there at the place travelers entered and exited Jericho. He had been an unchanging fixture there for years. Unkempt beard. Worn clothes. Sightless eyes staring out of an expressionless face. Tin cup held out in the hope of a coin dropping from a compassionate visitor’s hand. They didn’t socialize. At all. They didn’t want to. It simply wasn’t done. Wasn’t socially acceptable. The sighted people busily going about their business, and the blind beggar conducting his own form of business had nothing in common. Not one thing. At least not one they could see. 

No one really saw him. Not because they couldn’t see, but because they chose not to. Mostly, they ignored him. It was a practice many had perfected. So accustomed were they to his presence, they could attend their business without so much as a glance in his direction. To those passing by daily, the begging blind man didn’t exist. At all. Men ignored his voice, kept their distance, averted their eyes. Women switched sides of the street to avoid him. Mothers carefully guided their small children away, tucking them behind voluminous skirts as they passed. No one stopped to chat. No one asked how his day was going. No one regularly placed a piece of bread in his hand to ward off hunger. Even with sighted eyes, the people missed his presence. They didn’t see him. Not really. Not as a person. Not as useful. Not as worthy. They had never seen him that way. No one had. Until Jesus passed through town. (Mark 10:17-22)

Exiting the town of Jericho, a large crowd encompassed Jesus. Their progress was slow, impeded by their own urgency to have a personal encounter with Him. Their voices were loud, leaving no mistake about who was passing by. As they approached the blind man’s spot, they didn’t stumble or grind to a halt. People simply went around him. Ignoring him, as usual. But they didn’t stop talking. Their mouths kept going, making it impossible for the blind man to miss who was passing by. Jesus of Nazareth. He’d heard of Him. Of course, he’d heard of most people. He knew the gossip. It was the only perk of being the ignored, rejected blind beggar by the road. No one was particularly careful about what they said in his presence. Apparently, they thought blindness included lack of intelligence. It didn’t. He knew many things about many people. Things they would never tell him. Things they wouldn’t necessarily want him to know. He definitely knew about Jesus. He knew He was a Healer. He knew Jesus didn’t ignore the disabled, discouraged, disenfranchised, or depressed. He wasn’t impressed with social status or acceptability. In fact, Jesus’ reputation suggested he was more familiar with the tattered margins of society than the leading edge of power and prominence. It seemed Jesus saw everyone. Even people like him.  

Determining he had nothing to lose should another human decide his existence was superfluous to requirement, the blind man gathered his courage and called out to Jesus. Loudly. Loud enough to get the attention of the men on the nearest edge of the crowd. And they weren’t having it. Whirling around in his general direction, they issued menacing warnings. He needed to shut up. Stop yelling like a madman. Quit trying to get attention. Don’t be embarrassing. Jesus wasn’t there to see an unkempt, uncouth social reject. They couldn’t imagine He would be interested in conversing with a useless scrap of humanity. Except He was. 

Utterly surprising, the crowd surrounding Him, Jesus requested the blind man be brought to stand before Him. A ripple of astonished whispers must have whipped through the crowd. Regardless, they did as He asked. Making a path, some men helped the blind man to his feet and walked him safely to Jesus. As he stood there, his knees knocking, his heart in overdrive, his stomach in knots over what may or may not happen next, Jesus gently asked a simple question. What did he want? What did he need? What was he hoping to take away from this encounter? There is no surprise in the blind man’s answer. He wanted what everyone in his position would want. He wanted to see. He wanted to be healed. He wanted to be equal to the people currently crowded around him who didn’t see him or hear him or speak to him except to scorn and scold. He wanted to be healed so he could be accepted in his world. And Jesus obliged. 

With not even a modicum of drama, Jesus healed him. He could immediately see. He could go clean up his filthy little spot by the side of the road and go home. Scrub up. Learn a trade. Get a job. Find a wife. Have a family. Live happily ever after. He could be integrated into the society that had long held him at arm’s length. Why? Because Jesus saw him through the eyes of His compassionate heart. He looked beyond the bedraggled, disabled outer shell and saw his inner potential. When everyone else saw a pointless blight on society, unworthy of their time or attention, Jesus saw the possibilities of usefulness and worth.  (Luke 18:35-43)

The Luke account tells us that all the people who saw the blind man receive his sight praised God. I wonder why. Not because it isn’t praiseworthy. It is. I wonder because it seems so out of character for people who were previously attempting to shut him up, thwart his attempts to speak to Jesus. I find I have questions about their motivation. Were they truly happy on the man’s behalf, or were they simply excited to be in the presence of a miracle? Were they ecstatic to no longer have to pass the beggar on their travels, thrilled to have one less blight on society? Or, is it possible, the scales had fallen off their own eyes? Did they get Jesus’ message? The unspoken one? The message Jesus lived out in word and deed every day of His life. Love your neighbor as yourself. Don’t judge someone based on their outward appearance, visible shortcomings, or obvious inabilities. Treat others the way you wish to be treated. Include the despised and rejected of society. Do to others what you would like them to do to you if the tables were turned, the shoe was on your foot, the disability, inability, or inequality was yours to bear. (Matthew 22:36-40, 25:40; Luke 6:31; Ephesians 4:32; Deuteronomy 15:10-11; Proverbs 19:17, 31:9; I John 3:17-18; John 7:24)

It was a lesson to the crowd then. It is a lesson to us now. One we often miss. It is simple. You do not have an edge on Jesus’ love and attention because you are physically whole, mentally well, emotionally stable, or spiritually solid. Jesus came for everyone. Clean. Dirty. Wealthy. Poor. Able or disabled. No one is excluded. We miss that fact. We forget that the love and tenderness of Jesus has no boundaries. His grace and mercy transcend every human situation and circumstance. We look with our eyes and determine one another’s worth based on their looks, speech, or abilities. We forget the lesson Jesus embodied with every person who crossed His path. Love one another. Always. Love everyone. No exceptions. See one another through the eyes of Jesus. Look for good in one another, even when it isn’t obvious. Don’t shy away from those who are different, disabled, or distasteful to look at. Love them. See them. Sit down beside them. Spend time there. Talk to them. Share Jesus with them. You never know whose life you can change when your heart sees like Jesus. (I Peter 4:8; Matthew 5:16; John 13:34-35, 15:12-13; I Samuel 16:7; I Corinthians 4:5; Mark 16:15-16: Hebrews 13:16)