A Word for Good Friday . . . even if it’s the next week!

Matthew 17:22-23 says, “When they came together in Galilee, he said to them, ‘The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men. They will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised to life.’ And the disciples were filled with grief.”

Did you hear that? Did you catch the disciples’ reaction to Jesus’ statement concerning the future? They “were filled with grief.”

The broader context is this: several of the disciples had just recently been with Jesus on the mount of transfiguration – we believe this was on Mt. Hermon, the tallest peak in Palestine in northern Galilee. After coming off this mountain top experience, they were confronted with a demon possessed child whom Jesus healed.

Then it says when they had come together – presumably with the rest of the disciples – in Galilee, Jesus began to explain to them what was to come, what must happen – that He would go to Jerusalem, that He would be betrayed, killed, and raised to life. And they were filled with grief.

They didn’t get it, did they? And they still didn’t get it on Palm Sunday. They shouted “Hosanna!” and they laid down palms as He made a “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem. They wanted a king. They were hoping for another David, another Solomon – a king to free them from political and economic oppression from the weight of Rome, from the powers of this world.

Jesus knew they needed freedom – but He also knew they needed freedom from a much greater power than Rome. They needed – and we still need today – freedom from the power of Satan and sin.

And so many people today still don’t get it. They come to Jesus hoping for freedom from economic problems or employment problems or family problems – things “out there” around them. But the real problem they have – and the real problem we all have – is not “out there” it’s “in here.”

Do you have a Rome out there from which you need freedom ? I hope on this Good Friday that you will see your real need is “in here.” No matter what the world and its powers have done to you, no matter what people have done to you, the reason Jesus came to die was for your problem – your sin.

After His death, the disciples still didn’t get it. A couple of them told the risen Christ “we had hoped that He was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” Their statement, in the past perfect (“we had hoped”) betrayed that their hope was futile and had vanished. But they spoke truer than they realized. Though their hope was well-founded, their idea of redemption was far too small.

Is your picture of Jesus too small? Is it too selfish? He came to redeem, yes! But not necessarily from economic deprivation or heart break, or cancer, or any number of other worldly maladies – and don’t get me wrong, none of these things are insignificant! But your sin, my sin, is a much, much bigger need than any of these others.

Ask God to show you your sin – look inside to see why Jesus came to be betrayed, to be handed over, tried, flogged, rejected, and crucified. See once again that He came to redeem His people from their sin. And rejoice that by trusting in Jesus and His resurrection, you may be adopted as God’s child, assured of an eternal inheritance.

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My first Orlando Sentinel opinion piece — 25 years ago!

MY WORD

November 01, 1995|By Michael S. Beates

Ten years ago Charles Griffith murdered his daughter, Joy. On that issue there is no question.

He brought a gun into the hospital to keep people away as he tried to administer an overdose of valium. He ended up shooting her, but his intent was clear from the beginning: He meant to kill his severely disabled daughter.

It now appears that Griffith may be released next month as his original charges are set aside for the lesser charge of second-degree murder.

The Orlando Sentinel recounted last Friday that many people ”considered his act an understandable ‘mercy killing,’ one deserving of more lenient treatment than other first-degree murders.”

We most clearly express our humanity by how we treat the weakest members of our society – the disabled and the chronically ill. That humanity is best expressed by loving and caring for them and is most threatened when we dispose of them by ”mercy killing.”

The term, itself, is an oxymoron.

Ultimately such acts are selfishly motivated. The person relieved of suffering is not so much the disabled as the able-bodied caregiver, saddled with grief and burdened with tending to a loved one.

Charles Griffith was wrong when he shot Joy. Roswell Gilbert was wrong when he killed his wife afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease.

A Philadelphia woman also was wrong when she shot her severely disabled son about 10 years ago. And it mocked justice when the court sentenced her only to probation because ”she had suffered enough already.”

When people willfully, knowingly and intentionally take the life of a disabled or chronically ill person, and the courts require less of them than a ”normal” murderer, we say volumes about how we value the disabled among us.

I am gladdened to hear that Griffith now expresses faith in Christ – as I do – and feels forgiven by God. This does not change, however, the penalty our society has established for those who commit murder.

His daughter, though disabled, was a person who bore in her body and soul the image of God, an image Griffith destroyed.

I speak harshly, I know.

My eldest child, a 13-year-old daughter, is also profoundly disabled, requiring lifelong care. She has suffered much through multiple surgeries and hospitalizations.

Her mother and I, like parents of any hurting child, also suffer deeply when we see her in pain. Life with her is not easy by any measure.

But do I love her? Like my own life.

Have I ever wished she would die? Her life has been so difficult I would lie to say I had not. As Christians, our hope of heaven means death brings great release.

But would I ever kill her to relieve her or me from our suffering? Never.

Life is God’s to give and to take. But if I do kill her, lock me away for my selfish inhumanity.

Jessica’s Laughter Speaks

It happened again last night – God surprised me through my wordless daughter, Jessica. God got me to pay attention to what He was saying because of her laughter.

If you have never heard Jessica laugh, . . . well, it will be hard to describe it – and it’s almost impossible to capture on video because it’s so unpredictable. Her laugh is as purely innocent as anything in my experience. Whether it is a giggle with a smile, or a full-throated belly laugh so deep that she audibly needs to suck air back in, her laugh is at once heart-lifting and (mysteriously for me) heart breaking.

Jessica loves music. Her response to melody and harmony validates what some people say: that music is the language of (or at least speaks to) the soul. Last night at a local meeting of Boost (see: http://www.liftdisability.net/boost/), the UCF Glee Club came as guests to sing. Jessica loved it: she smiled, giggled, and danced in her chair. After the Glee Club finished, we worshiped at bit. It wasn’t polished or fancy, the singing wasn’t stellar (though the Glee Club kids stayed and contributed!). But at a certain point, Jessica began to laugh – that deep belly laugh. The song was “Cornerstone” and every time we came to the chorus, at the end of the first line, she would erupt again into her laughter throughout the chorus. Check out the words:

“Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Savior’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord,
Lord of all.”

That got my attention. I had to stop singing the words and listen . . . I needed to listen to Jessica’s laughter and to the words! Jesus is the cornerstone. He brings balance and stability to weaker beings resting on Him. My weakness is addressed in Jesus’ love for me – no matter what the circumstance: raging storm, soft singing rain, or refreshing moist quiet of a morning’s sunshine. Thanks again, Jessica. God continues to use you to speak. Yes, He hardly ever does things the way we would expect.